Being Uzumaki Naruto
by Roving Otter
Summary: Something's bothering Gaara. Temari asks Shikamaru to help her find out what's going on. Things get troublesome. Some shounen ai content.
1. Chapter 1

Gaara tossed and turned beneath his thin sheets. His whole body burned with a dull heat, and the sheets clung to his sweat-damp skin, but he wasn't running a fever. He'd checked his temperature several times that night.

An image of Naruto's face flashed through his mind, sharp and clear as a photograph. Gaara's heart-rate and breathing quickened.

Him again. Why did Gaara keep thinking about him, and why did those thoughts affect him so strongly? He'd considered asking the med-nin, but he found himself oddly reluctant to discuss the problem…so he tried to will the thoughts away. But that proved impossible. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Naruto. It was as if someone had rigged up a tiny movie-projector inside his skull and was using the back of his eyelids as a screen to show Gaara's memories of him over…and over…and over.

_He came all that way to save you…risked his life to retrieve your body so Chiyo could revive you…_

Gaara's stomach did something peculiar, and he pressed a hand over it. He'd been getting that weird sensation a lot lately. It wasn't indigestion, wasn't nausea or cramps, it was…something else. Something he had no name for.

He sighed, rolled onto his stomach and buried his face against the pillow. Two hours ago he'd taken one of the sleep pills the med-nin had prescribed, but he was still wide awake.

Of course, insomnia was nothing new to Gaara. But in the first few weeks after Shukaku's extraction, he'd slept a great deal—almost twelve hours a night. Now, however, his insomnia was back with a vengeance, and it felt somehow worse, knowing he _should _be able to sleep now and being unable to.

He rolled onto his back, shut his eyes and tried to focus on breathing, as the med-nin had advised him—tried to quiet his restless mind. But he couldn't settle himself. His heart kept up its jackhammer beat. There was a pressure and tightness in his groin. Gaara whisked the sheets aside and growled in annoyance. He had an erection. Again.

That had almost never happened in the past. Why, now, did it happen so often? Did Shukaku's absence have something to do with it?

A few days ago he'd asked Kankuro if _that_ was ever a problem for him, and Kankuro had turned an alarming shade of red—_You mean you don't _know? _You've never done…that? At all? _When Gaara assured him that, yes, he really_ didn't_ know how one was supposed to deal with such things, Kankuro had given him a fumbling, stuttering explanation of masturbation.

Gaara's attempts to act on his advice, however, had been unsuccessful. He'd been unable to achieve orgasm—the promised relief. Rubbing or touching his cock just increased those sensations to an unbearable point.

Now, he grabbed his own cock as if it were an enemy's throat and tugged it, but received only a sharp twinge of pain. He must be doing it wrong. Surely it wasn't supposed to _hurt_. After a minute, he gave up, rolled out of bed and got dressed.

He slipped out of the building and walked through the dark, silent streets, into the desert. A sickle moon hung in the sky, painting the dunes the dead, ashen white of a waterlogged corpse. Sand swirled around Gaara in undulating ribbons.

Whatever these strange feelings meant, they were connected to Naruto. Gaara wanted—no, _needed _to see him again as soon as possible. Maybe then he would understand better. Or maybe Naruto would help him understand.

In the meantime, he just had to deal with these feelings on his own. But that was proving difficult.

He wandered, his head heavy with exhaustion, until the faint, peach-colored light of dawn glazed the dunes. Then he turned and made his way back toward Suna. He had a meeting today. Maybe he'd take another pill and try to get at least an hour or two of sleep.

* * *

"And another thing," the council member said, scowling through his grizzled beard, "you need to learn how to listen to your advisers. You're the Kazekage, but that doesn't mean you can do whatever you please. You have to take our input into account as well."

The other council members shifted nervously in their seats.

Temari cleared her throat. "Elder…"

"I'm speaking to him, not you. Everyone keeps quiet because they're afraid of you. It's time someone spoke up."

The corner of Gaara's eye twitched. A headache pulsed behind his brow like a small, hot stone embedded in his brain. "Your complaint is noted. Let's move on to the next issue."

"I won't be dismissed so easily."

Gaara spoke slowly, controlling his tone: "I'm really not in the mood for this today. I did not sleep well last night, or the night before. I'm very tired. I'd advise you not to push me."

"Oh no, I'm not going to let you intimidate me this time."

"Sir," snapped Temari, "remember your place. You're speaking to the Kazekage. Show some respect."

"I've tried being respectful and polite in the past, and that hasn't worked, has it? I've served under three Kazekages now. This…_boy _apparently thinks he has the wisdom to lead the village without…"

His voice faded to an angry buzz in Gaara's ears. His vision blurred and wavered as the headache grew, pounding behind his eyes, swallowing him in a red pain-soaked haze until at last, Temari's frantic voice broke through—"Gaara, Gaara, stop! Please stop!"

Gaara blinked and snapped back to reality. The council member lay on the floor, screaming, his arms encased in sand. Gaara quickly withdrew the sand, but the damage had been done. The man's arms lay limp and broken in a puddle of blood. "Monster!" he gasped.

"I—I'm sorry," whispered Gaara. "I didn't mean…" He looked around the table. A ring of faces stared at him, mouths open, eyes wide. Temari's expression was the worst—a look of agonized horror that went through his heart like an arrow.

Someone ran out of the room, shouting for a med-nin. On the floor, the wounded council member kept wailing, calling Gaara a demon, an abomination.

Gaara's throat and chest tightened. He raised his tight, trembling fists to his temples. Then he stood, turned and walked out of the room.

* * *

The med-nin—a plump, motherly-looking woman—crossed her arms over her chest and frowned. "Describe your symptoms again?"

Impatiently, he rattled them off: "Heart palpitations. Rapid breathing. Flushed face. Occasional dizziness…and a strange sensation in my stomach. I don't know how to describe it, but it's similar to the sensation I get when I look down from a great height."

"And this happens when you think of a particular person, you said?"

"Yes. I've tried to stop thinking of him, but I can't. My thoughts keep going back to him throughout the day, and especially at night."

"Is this someone who frightens you or makes you uneasy in any way?"

"No, quite the opposite. It's someone I consider a friend, which is what makes this so strange. But it's interfering with my life. The insomnia has gotten worse." As an afterthought, he added, "I've been getting those erections a lot too."

The med-nin cleared her throat. "Yes, well…I still find it odd that you never experienced them until recently. Normally, a young man starts getting them around the onset of puberty. Fifteen is rather late for that. I suppose Shukaku _could _have something to do with that, but I can't say for sure."

"Well, I don't like them. They're annoying. And I still haven't gotten the hang of masturbating." Thoughtfully, he added, "Perhaps you could show me. Demonstrate on me, I mean."

She flushed. "I'm not sure that would be appropriate."

"Fine then, I'll have Kankuro do it."

"Your brother? That's also not really…well, it's your own business, I suppose. But you must understand, Kazekage-sama, the social issues surrounding sex are complicated and delicate. It's not really considered normal to ask one's brother to demonstrate masturbation. But I suppose you never had a chance to learn these things. Your upbringing wasn't really…normal. Forgive me for saying so."

Gaara sighed. "Never mind. These symptoms of mine, what do you think they mean?"

"Well…you say they happen when you think of this certain person?"

"Yes. I've told you that twice now."

"My apologies, Kazekage-sama. But from everything you've told me, it would seem that you're in love."

He stared. "In love?"

"Yes. With this person you mentioned. And that sensation in your stomach you described is called 'butterflies.' Who…" Her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh dear. It's not your brother, is it?"

"No."

"That's a relief. I mean…not that it's any of my business."

Gaara was growing impatient. "Well, what should I do? Is there a pill or a jutsu that can stop this?"

"Stop you from being in love?" A smile curved her lips. She looked as though she were holding back laughter.

"Do you find this funny?"

The smile vanished. "No, Kazekage-sama. But medical ninjutsu can't deal with this particular issue, I'm afraid. Why don't you talk to this person and see how he feels about you?"

"I can't. He doesn't live in Suna, and I don't know when he'll be here again. I need something to help me deal with this _now_. I'm not sure you realize how serious this issue is." Gaara leaned toward her. "I'm losing my mind. I can't sleep. I have no appetite. I injured someone during a council meeting yesterday. You probably heard about that."

She bit her lower lip. "Well, I could give you some stronger sedatives. Those might help you sleep, at least."

"Very well." Gaara accepted the bottle of pills from her and walked out of the room, his heart and mind in knots.

What was he supposed to do now? Talk to Naruto, she had said. But when would he have the chance? And what then?

* * *

Temari stood in the doorway to Gaara's room. Her brother—the Kazekage—sat at his desk, hiding behind a mountain of paperwork, a pen in one hand. "Do you need something?" he asked without looking up.

"Yes. We need to talk."

Gaara raised his eyes. His face was as blank and doll-like as ever…but even so, Temari could see a difference in him. The dark circles around his eyes seemed more pronounced than usual, and there was a heaviness in his posture, as if he carried invisible sandbags. And he'd lost weight. His baggier-than-normal robes all but swallowed up his small frame, so he looked like a child playing dress-up with his parents' clothes. He said nothing, just waited.

Temari squared her shoulders, determined not to let that steady, emotionless stare intimidate her. "I know something's been bothering you lately…"

"I told you before, I'm fine. Is that all? I need to get back to this paperwork."

Temari clenched her teeth until her jaws ached. Lately, he did this every time one of his siblings tried to talk to him; just insisted everything was okay and brushed them away like buzzing flies. It was getting really old. "You're not fine. You spend all day locked in your study, hiding from the world, then disappear at night without telling anyone where you're going."

"Sometimes I can't sleep. I like to take walks in the desert. That's all."

"Also, you've missed quite a few council meetings lately. That's not like you. And there was that incident the other day. I know that guy was being an ass, but even so…you just can't _do _things like that."

"I know that. Don't you think I know that?" Gaara's gaze shifted away. Temari—who could read his subtle expressions by now—saw his mouth twitch with embarrassment. "I lost control. It won't happen again."

"I just want to know what's going on. I'm worried about you. We're both worried, Kankuro and I. And don't try to tell me that I'm imagining things. I've known you too long for that."

"Your concern is noted, but I'm fine. I can deal with my own problems."

"It doesn't seem that way."

Gaara's shoulders tensed, and his tone went frosty. "This is none of your business."

"Yes it is. You're the Kazekage now. The safety of the entire village hinges on your stability. If you have some kind of mental breakdown, Suna is going to be in a very vulnerable position…and if we have any more incidents like that one in the council chamber, we could have a coup on our hands. Lots of people are still scared of you, despite all the good you've done for the village. The last thing they need is an excuse to turn against you."

Gaara flinched. He stared at the floor, his posture rigid.

Temari gentled her tone. "I just want to help. That's all. But I can't help unless you talk to me."

His voice—when he spoke—was so soft she had to strain to hear it. "You can't help me."

"Why not?"

"I'm sorry, but this is not something I'm prepared to discuss."

Temari's chest tightened. She hated that cold, businesslike tone. By now, she supposed she should be used to Gaara's lack of visible emotion, but it was somehow worse to hear that mechanical voice out of him when he looked like a wrung-out dishrag. "Is it because I'm a woman?" she asked desperately. "If you can't tell me, then maybe Kankuro…"

"That has nothing to do with it."

She took a step closer, pulse drumming in her throat. "Please, Gaara. Don't shut us out. I know you're used to dealing with things alone, but you're not alone anymore. Let me—let us help you."

Silence.

Tears stung her eyes. She blinked them back and looked away, angry at her own weakness. But this was just so damn _frustrating._ What if there was something really wrong with him? Had his mind been damaged somehow when they pulled Shukaku out? Or did he, God forbid, have some sort of life-threatening illness? "Is there _anyone _you'll talk to?"

"Naruto. I need to see Uzumaki Naruto."

"I told you before, he's not in Konoha right now. We haven't been able to get in touch with him. He probably won't be back for another few weeks at least, and even then…"

"That's who I want to talk to. I'll wait as long as necessary." He picked up the form in front of him and resumed reading; a tacit dismissal.

Anger stung Temari's heart. Her fingers itched to grab her fan, overturn his desk with a well-placed gust of wind and scatter his precious papers across the floor. Instead, she took a deep breath and clenched her fists.

Gaara had surmounted incredible odds to become the Kazekage—overcome prejudice, fear and hatred and carved out a place for himself in spite of the ever-present voices clamoring that he was a demon and an abomination. He was a strong and determined man. But at times, he could also be an insufferable, spoiled brat. And when he was like this, there was no reasoning with him; you might as well try to convince a mountain to move.

Temari stormed out of the room. As she slammed the door, she noticed the breakfast tray she'd left outside of Gaara's room that morning. It still hadn't been touched. "Ungrateful little prick," she growled, not caring if Gaara overheard her. She strode down the hall, nursing her anger. Anger, at least, was an improvement over cold, gut-twisting fear.

-To be continued


	2. Chapter 2

Gaara listened to his sister's receding footsteps. She seemed to be making an effort to stomp as loudly as she could. The reverberations traveled through the floor and up through his chair.

A dull ache suffused Gaara's chest, and his heart constricted in a painful spasm. One of the three people who comprised his stunted social circle had just called him a prick. And he couldn't blame her, really. He knew she was afraid…not just for Gaara, but for herself and all the people of Suna. His siblings had a right to know what was going on, why their brother—who had spent the past three years clawing his way up the steep and slippery incline of sanity—had lost his tenuous grip and was sliding backward in a rush.

But he couldn'ttell them the truth. He just couldn't. It sounded so absurd, even to Gaara himself. How could he admit that the thing unraveling him, the thing tearing at the foundations of his sanity was…love? He'd lose whatever esteem he'd gained in their eyes. They'd be disgusted and disappointed in his weakness.

For awhile, he continued to read and sign forms mechanically, trying to lose himself in the simple task, but it was a lost cause. He couldn't focus on the words; they blurred and ran together on the page. Black spots danced in front of his eyes. He closed them and rubbed his eyelids, then swiveled his chair away from the mountain of paperwork and stared at the wall.

He should have figured it out sooner, should have recognized his growing obsession with Naruto for what it was. So many times, he'd relived those few precious moments he'd shared with the golden-haired Jinchuuriki: the gentle pressure of his hand on Gaara's shoulder, that tender smile, those blue eyes shining into his…eyes that had seen the darkness in his soul, the ugliness of his past sins. Eyes that still looked upon him with acceptance, with friendship, with kindness.

People always spoke of falling in love as a wonderful thing. But Gaara hadn't felt this confused or miserable in years. Being tossed about by these uncontrollable feelings was torture. It wasn't as bad as having Shukaku ripped from his soul bit by bit, but it was close.

Of course he knew—_knew—_that Naruto could not return his feelings. Sasuke was Naruto's most important person; that was clear to anyone who knew him. Sakura was probably a close second, and he had countless friends jostling to fill the positions behind that. Where was Gaara on that ladder? Tenth? Twentieth? Perhaps Naruto had reserved some tiny corner of his heart and mind for him, but even that was being optimistic. In the long months that followed Gaara's death and revival, Naruto hadn't visited Suna even once…except to stop there for a single night during a mission. He had saved Gaara's life, yes, but he'd have done the same for anyone. That was just the sort of person he was—endlessly giving, even to those who'd shown him cruelty.

No, there was no point in Gaara trying to fool himself. Even so…he had to _know. _He had to confess his feelings to Naruto. The real question was, would his sanity survive the inevitable rejection?

From the deepest recesses of his memory, he heard the thud of a door slamming in his face…and a voice that cut through him like the cold edge of a knife. _Go home, monster!_

Gaara's breathing quickened. He shook his head, trying to banish the memories, and stood. He couldn't concentrate on work in this condition. Maybe a short walk would help clear his head.

He left his study and walked down the hall.

* * *

Temari unfolded the letter from Konoha. It had just arrived by messenger hawk, and the bird was still perched on the windowsill, preening its breast-feathers. Stomach knotted, she scanned the few lines on the small square of paper:

_We received your latest correspondence. We regret to inform you that Uzumaki Naruto is still away. Your messages will be delivered to him as soon as he returns, and he will respond to them when he has the opportunity. In the meantime, please refrain from contacting us any further. We value our alliance with Sunagakure, but the Hokage wishes to inform you that she is very busy and has other matters weighing on her mind. Good day._

Temari felt the corner of her eye twitch. Her hand clenched into a fist, crumpling the paper. Then her shoulders sagged in defeat.

Gaara was wasting away, and Naruto was the only one he wanted to talk to. What was she supposed to do?

* * *

As Gaara stepped out of the building, he spotted Shikamaru—the current ambassador from Konoha (and Temari's lover)—leaning against the wall. Shikamaru lit the cigarette in his mouth, cupping a hand around the flame. Then he looked up at Gaara's approach. "Morning, Kazekage-sama. Is it okay if I smoke here?"

"I don't care," said Gaara. He paused, looking at Shikamaru. "Do you have any duties right now?"

"Nope. Just hanging around."

"Would you like to walk with me for a little while?"

Shikamaru blinked at him in surprise. Then he shrugged. "Sure." He pocketed his lighter and followed Gaara down the street.

Gaara couldn't have said why he'd made the offer, but there was something oddly calming about Shikamaru's presence. Nothing short of manslaughter ever ruffled him. And unlike Temari or Kankuro, he wouldn't ask intrusive questions about Gaara's well-being.

"You smoke?" asked Shikamaru.

"No."

"Good, don't start." He smiled. "You're too clean for such a dirty habit."

Gaara thought this an odd remark, but he let it slide. They walked in silence for a few minutes. Then Shikamaru said, "Hope you don't mind me saying so, but you look a little peaked. Everything okay?"

"No, but I'd rather not discuss it."

Shikamaru nodded and said nothing more.

"Gaara-sama!" called a bright female voice, and Gaara looked up to see Matsuri—or maybe it was Sari, he often got them confused—smiling and waving to him. He raised one hand to wave back, and she blushed and hurried away.

Shikamaru chuckled. "You seem to be pretty popular."

"I suppose." Gaara lowered his gaze. "Some of the young kunoichi act very strangely around me."

"Well, sure. You're their awesome elite Kazekage." He sounded amused. "But if you ask me, you've got the right idea, staying clear of women. Trust me, they're the most troublesome creatures on the planet."

"Coming from you, I find that puzzling. Lately you seem to be spending much of your time with my sister."

"Eh, well, you know what they say about women." He shrugged. "Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em."

"Is that what they say? Well, I don't always know how to deal with her. But for me, that's true of everyone, regardless of sex."

"Really?"

He nodded, staring into space. "I find it almost impossible to deal with other people. Yet I still crave human contact. So perhaps in my case, you could apply that saying to humanity as a whole."

Shikamaru arched an eyebrow. "Isn't there anyone you feel comfortable around? I mean, don't you have friends?"

Gaara opened his mouth to reply, then shut it. "Not really." He didn't want to mention Naruto. He'd probably said too much as it was; he was almost never this open with anyone. Maybe it was just that he'd spent so much time keeping these thoughts and feelings bottled up inside, he needed someone to hear them, and Shikamaru was a neutral presence; someone who wouldn't judge him, someone who wasn't _really _involved with his life, someone who could just listen. "I've never had friends. Aside from my siblings, that is."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Shikamaru said. "Having a friend to lean on can take a lot of pressure off you."

Gaara opened his mouth to respond, but just then, he heard Temari's voice behind him: "There you are."

Gaara turned and tensed. She wasn't looking at him, however, but at Shikamaru. She caught his wrist. "There's a meeting starting in fifteen minutes. You're supposed to be there."

"A meeting? Today?"

"Yes. It was on the schedule." To Gaara, she said, "You don't have to attend if you're not feeling up to it. It's a minor issue. We can just send you a summary for you to sign and approve later."

At any other time, Gaara would have insisted on attending—he took his duties as Kazekage seriously—but at the moment, he didn't think he could face a room full of arguing councilmen. And her voice was a bit cool and prickly. Maybe she was still upset. Maybe she didn't want him there. "Very well," he said.

Temari walked down the street, still gripping Shikamaru's wrist. If he minded being led about like that, he didn't show it.

* * *

After a long and very dull meeting spent ironing out the details of trade regulations between their two villages, Temari led Shikamaru back to their bedroom and shut the door. She pulled him into her arms and lay her head on his chest. "I need you," she said quietly.

He undressed her, and they fell into bed together.

Afterward, Shikamaru folded his arms behind his head and stared at the ceiling. Temari's bed was always so comfy—huge, soft as a cloud, covered in silky sheets that felt slippery-soft against his bare skin. He dug his toes into them and watched from the corner of his eye as Temari lit a cigarette. "I didn't know you smoked."

"It's just an occasional thing for me. Want one?"

"Nah, I'm trying to cut back. Thanks anyway."

She shrugged and took another drag, staring at the ceiling. She'd seemed pensive these last few days—distant, quieter than usual. A few times, he'd thought about asking her what was up, but he figured she'd tell him if she wanted to. He didn't like to pry into others' affairs. Even people he was sleeping with.

Shikamaru stretched his legs and rolled onto his side. His eyelids felt heavy. He burrowed into the silk pillowcase and closed his eyes, his mind wandering in lazy patterns.

He'd been here in Suna for about a month now, serving as the military liaison from Konoha. Overall, it wasn't bad. Oh, he missed Chouji and his parents…plus it was hot as hell in Suna, and he kept getting sand in various parts of his body. But really, there wasn't a whole lot to do except show up at the occasional meeting. Plenty of time for cloud-watching and lazing around. And Temari.

Shikamaru had started to doze off when her voice broke into his consciousness: "I have a favor to ask of you."

"Hmm?" He opened one eye. "What is it?"

"I'm not sure if you've noticed, but Gaara's been different lately."

"I don't know him very well, so I can't say. What's the problem?"

"He's been…distant. Even more so than usual. And even though Shukaku's gone, I don't think he's been sleeping at all. To be blunt, he's kind of a wreck."

Shikamaru still didn't see what this had to do with him, but it was Temari's view (and his mother's) that a man should listen patiently while a woman talked. So he waited. But she didn't seem inclined to continue without prompting, so he asked her, "How long has this been going on?"

"Ever since they extracted Shukaku. I thought being free of that One Tail would help balance his mind, but instead, he seems to have gotten worse. Last week, during a meeting, there was a disagreement. Some council member started getting uppity and yelling at him, and Gaara broke the guy's arms. Crushed them with his sand."

"Yikes."

"He hasn't done anything like that in years. And that wasn't the only incident, either." She paused, staring at the ceiling. "I probably don't need to explain to you how serious it will be if Gaara loses his mind again. We need to address the cause, but we don't _know _the cause. He won't talk to me or Kankuro. I think…even after all this time, he doesn't entirely trust us." A flash of pain crossed her face.

Shikamaru chose his words carefully: "Sounds like a difficult situation. But what can I do about it? I've only spoken to Gaara a handful of times in my life. I don't think he'd confide in me."

"I know." She looked him in the eye. "That's why I want you to do it in disguise. Transform yourself to look like Naruto."

"What?" Shikamaru stared at her, half convinced he'd misheard. Surely, even Temari couldn't be that crazy.

She repeated herself slowly: "I want you to transform yourself to look like Naruto. Then I want you to approach Gaara, as Naruto, and ask him what's bothering him."

Shikamaru took a deep breath, trying to calmly analyze what she'd just said, but no matter how he looked at it, the request made no sense. "Why?" he said at last.

"Because Gaara's been asking for him constantly lately. He's the only person Gaara will talk to, the only person Gaara considers a friend."

"Then just ask the real Naruto to do it."

She frowned. "I would if I could, obviously. But he isn't here, and we've had no success getting in touch with him. Even if we manage to contact him, there's no guarantee he'll come anytime soon."

"If Naruto's Gaara's friend, then he should be able to make time."

"Naruto is otherwise occupied."

"But if he knew how bad it was…I mean, if you're _really _afraid for Gaara's sanity…"

"You know he's obsessed with tracking down that boy."

"Sasuke?"

She nodded. "The Hokage's indicated that Naruto is out searching for him again. He's following a trail of rumors, and knowing him, he won't stop until he's succeeded or been beaten within an inch of his life. A man who betrayed his village and abandoned his friends shouldn't be worth the time, but apparently…" She clenched her teeth, eyes blazing with anger, then closed them and took a deep breath. "Sorry. It's just…" She wiped the back of one hand across her eyes. "I'm very worried about Gaara, and there seems to be nothing that I or Kankuro can do for him. He just keeps asking for that damned Uzumaki. I thought about transforming into Naruto myself, but I don't think I could pull it off. I don't know Naruto well enough to mimic him, and Henge no Jutsu has never been one of my strongest skills. Besides, Gaara knows the feel of my chakra very well, so he'd recognize it. But you…" She met his gaze. "You've known Naruto since childhood. You know all his mannerisms. And you're extremely intelligent and perceptive. You could pull it off, I know you could."

"Even if I could, I wouldn't feel right deceiving someone like that." That, and if Gaara saw through the deception, he'd be pissed, and Shikamaru really didn't want to be on the receiving end of his anger. "I can't do this, Temari."

Temari's hands clenched into shaking fists. Shikamaru tensed. That tremor in her hands usually signaled an oncoming fury. He expected her to rail at him, to call him a useless good-for-nothing coward, to storm out of the room or kick him out. But she did something much worse. She looked at him with an expression of agony, her blue-green eyes soft and wet with tears. "Please," she whispered. "I know it's asking too much of you. I know it isn't fair. But I don't know what else to do. I don't want Gaara to lose everything he's worked for, but that's what will happen if this goes on much longer. I have to do _something._"

Shikamaru turned away from those pleading eyes. He could never bear the sight of a woman crying—and it was the last thing he'd expected from Temari. He'd never seen her shed tears. She really _was _desperate.

But still, that didn't make the idea any less harebrained or dangerous. Even setting aside concerns for his own safety, it just felt _wrong._ Shikamaru didn't know Gaara very well, and his first impressions hadn't exactly been favorable. But even so…whatever Gaara had been in the past, he was a decent man now, a man who'd overcome a truly horrific childhood and risen up to become the Kazekage against all odds. Shikamaru respected him too much to use such underhanded tactics on him. "I'm sorry, Temari. I can't."

She tensed. "Why? Are you afraid of Gaara finding out?"

"Well, yeah, but that's not why I'm refusing. I'm not going to betray him like that."

"But if it's for his own good…"

"It's not my place to decide what's good for him."

She drew herself up and squared her shoulders. "If you don't do this, I'll personally go to Konoha and speak to your Hokage. I'll explain the situation. I'm certain she'll agree with my plan and understand the necessity. I'll ask her to assign this task as a mission to whoever she thinks is most capable. And she'll probably pick you anyway, because you're the only one with the necessary skills and experience."

Shikamaru stared at her. "Are you serious?"

"Deadly."

"Fuck!" His mom had lectured him over and over not to curse in front of woman, but the word burst out of him before he could stop it. He glared at Temari, who stared back, stone-faced. "Do you even care about what might happen to me if this goes wrong?"

"He's not going to kill you. If I thought there was any risk of that, I wouldn't ask it of you. Anyway, you're one of the few people who has a solid defense against Gaara's powers: you can restrain him with your shadow if need be."

Shikamaru stared into space for a long moment. A sick feeling twisted in his stomach. Temari was serious about this. She wasn't going to let up. "Fine." He sat up and faced away from her. "I'll do it. Hell, I don't have much choice, do I? But after this…" He paused. "After this I'm going back to Konoha."

She flinched. Then her expression smoothed out, becoming almost as calm and blank as Gaara's. "Fine. Just promise me…promise me you'll try, really try, to do this right. And…make sure he doesn't find out. I don't want him hurt."

"I'll do it right. This is a mission, after all, isn't it?" He dressed quietly, retreated into the bathroom and faced the mirror. If he was going to do this, he might as well get it over with now. He took a deep breath and clasped his hands together in a sign. "Henge no Jutsu." A poof of smoke filled the room.

When it faded, a perfect replica of Naruto stared back at him from the mirror: shaggy blond hair, whisker-like marks on the cheeks, summer-sky blue eyes. The only thing missing was the cheery expression. Shikamaru stepped out of the bathroom and faced Temari. "Give me all the information you have on Naruto's relationship with Gaara," he said.

Temari spent the next hour filling him in on the details of how Naruto and Gaara interacted, how they viewed each other, their shared experiences.

"Anything else?"

"That's really it," she said. "Or at least everything I'm aware of. Naruto only visited once since he rescued Gaara from Akatsuki, and he didn't stay long. I don't think anything significant has happened since then."

Shikamaru nodded. Naruto and Gaara might have had some interaction Temari hadn't witnessed, but then, Naruto's memory was bad enough that any gaps in his knowledge could be explained by simple forgetfulness. He could probably pull this off. But knowing that didn't make him feel any better about it.

He turned away. "No point in delaying this, I guess. Let's go."

-To be continued


	3. Chapter 3

"Gaara?" called Temari.

Gaara looked up from his paperwork.

She smiled as she stepped into his study. "It looks like you got your wish after all. Someone decided to pay us a surprise visit." She stepped aide, and Shikamaru—now blond, blue-eyed and orange-vested—stepped into the room.

Gaara's eyes widened.

Shikamaru plastered a grin on his face. "Hey, Gaara!" he piped in a cheerful, Naruto-ish tone.

"Naruto." There was a faint note of surprise in his usually toneless voice. Emotions swam through the depths of his ocean-colored eyes.

Temari stepped out of the room and closed the door behind her. Gaara's gaze never left Shikamaru's face. "When did you arrive?"

"'Bout an hour ago. I was in the area, so I thought I'd say hello. It's been way too long." Shikamaru laced his hands together behind his head. "So how's it going?"

"Fine." Gaara paused. "Are you still pursuing the Uchiha boy?"

"Um, well, not exactly." Not Sasuke, thought Shikamaru, but "the Uchiha boy." That phrasing seemed to suggest that Gaara didn't like Sasuke. Not that Shikamaru could blame him. He'd never understood what made that self-absorbed sourpuss so popular. "That lead I found turned out to be a false trail. Just rumors. He could be anywhere in the world right now, so until I get another clue, there's no point in looking."

"I see."

Maybe that had sounded a bit too pessimistic for the always-bubbly Naruto. "I _will _find him someday, I'm sure! I'm not giving up. But Sasuke's not my _only_ friend, after all. I don't want to neglect my other important people, and Temari said you've been wanting to see me. So here I am! How's life? What's it like being Kazekage? I bet you've been busy."

"Yes. I have a lot of responsibility."

Shikamaru waited, but Gaara didn't seem inclined to say more.

Hmm. It was going to be difficult coaxing information out of someone so taciturn, but at least Gaara didn't seem to see through his disguise. "So, you wanna go get some ramen? Or…do you even have ramen here in Suna? Maybe some dango…"

"Actually, I would like to talk to you for a minute first."

"Eh? Sure." Well, maybe Shikamaru wouldn't have to coax the information out of him after all. "What's on your mind?"

Gaara stood and stepped out from behind his desk. Then he turned and faced the window, fingers interlaced at the small of his back, shoulders stiff. Maybe it was just his eyes playing tricks, but Shikamaru could have sworn he was trembling.

He waited, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Gaara?"

Gaara looked at him. "Do you ever find yourself attracted to men?"

Shikamaru blinked. Well, that was about the last thing he'd expected. "Um…" Heat rose into his cheeks. "You're asking if I'm gay?"

"I'm aware that you like women. I'm asking if you've ever been attracted to another man."

Damn. How would Naruto respond to something like this? Shikamaru was pretty sure he was straight, but still, there was that weird obsession with Sasuke. "Why do you want to know? Not to sound rude, but it _is _kind of a personal question."

"Just answer." After a moment, he added, "Please."

Gaara really had no grasp of social etiquette. Still…Shikamaru _was _trying to get him to open up. The best way to do that was probably to open up, himself. So he gave the answer he thought Naruto would be most likely to give: "I mostly like girls, but I'm pretty open to trying new things. Y'know, as long as it doesn't involve animals or dead bodies or anything freaky like that. So, uh, what about you?"

Gaara's gaze met his briefly, then slid back to the window. His fingers, laced together behind his back, twitched. "Until recently, I never had any sexual feelings at all, so trying to decipher them isn't easy. But lately…there's a certain man I'm attracted to. I've been trying to come to terms with those feelings."

"Um, okay." This was…surreal, to put it mildly. Shikamaru hadn't known what to expect from this conversation, but he _really _hadn't expected Gaara to start a frank discussion about sexuality. "I mean, that's fine. I don't care if you're gay or bisexual or whatever. I don't think your brother and sister would have a problem with it either. They seem pretty easy-going." Was that all that was bothering Gaara? Worrying that he might be gay and what others might think about it? Somehow, he suspected there was more to it than that.

"You said you're open to new things, but that suggests to me that you're not attracted to men in general," said Gaara.

"Not really, no."

"What about me? Am I attractive?"

Shikamaru stared. Was Gaara hitting on him? On Naruto, rather? Or did he just not understand the implications of the question he was asking? That had to be it, he decided--Gaara had a crush on someone and was feeling insecure about his own desirability, so he was looking for reassurance from Naruto, his only real friend. And with his limited social experience, he didn't realize how it sounded.

Gaara was still staring at him, waiting for an answer. Shikamaru realized that his jaw was hanging open, and he snapped it shut. "Well, uh, sure. I mean, you must be aware of that. You've got your share of girls following you around. More than your share, really. Er…but if you're gay I guess that doesn't do much good. But there's probably plenty of guys in Suna who'd do you, too."

"With my position as Kazekage, it's inevitable that I'd attract some attention of that nature. But that's not what I'm concerned with. I'm asking what _you _think. Your honest opinion."

Troublesomer and troublesomer. How was he supposed to handle this, exactly? Shikamaru cleared his throat, heart thumping, and wiped his sweating brow with one sleeve.

"I'm making you uncomfortable."

"It's just that I've never really looked at you that way."

"Then look at me." Gaara turned to face him.

"Well, I…" He stared at Gaara, dry-mouthed. "How do you mean? I _am _looking at you."

"Do I possess any qualities you consider desirable?" His voice held a hint of impatience. Or was it nervousness?

Shikamaru had never endured such an excruciatingly awkward moment in all his life. His instincts told him to flee before he fucked this up irreversibly, but he was afraid of breaking character. Naruto wouldn't flee. Would he? No. Naruto might be uncomfortable, but he'd stand his ground and try to answer honestly. But that was hard to do, since—for Shikamaru, at least—thinking about a male in any kind of sexual context was weird.

_So visualize him as a woman._

Okay, that wasn't so hard. Gaara was kind of androgynous-looking anyway. "Well, you have nice skin. Like milk, really."

A tiny furrow appeared between Gaara's hairless brows. "Milk?"

"Yeah. You know, very smooth and white. Creamy." _What else? If Gaara was a girl… _"Your eyes are a pretty color, too." Teal. The same color as Temari's. Those dark rings brought out the color, making them all the more striking. The lack of visible pupils was a little unnerving, but even so. "And you're very…I don't know how to put it. Graceful? Just the way you carry yourself."

For a moment, Gaara didn't reply, just stared at Shikamaru, his face inscrutable.

Shikamaru cleared his throat, his cheeks hot. "But like I said, I don't usually look at guys in that way. So I might not be the best person to ask."

There was a silence that seemed to stretch on for hours. "You won't be here for very long, will you?" Gaara asked at last, quietly. "You'll be going back to Konoha soon."

"I don't know how long I'll be here. But yeah, probably not long. Few days, maybe." He didn't intend to spend the next month masquerading as Naruto, after all. This little deception was even more stressful and troublesome than he'd anticipated.

Gaara crossed his arms over his chest and stared out the window, his shoulders rigid with tension. "Are you repulsed?"

"Wha—? No! No, not at all. I'm pretty open about this kind of stuff, really. Did you think I was going to freak out or something?"

"No, I suppose not."

More silence. Shikamaru shuffled his feet in the way Naruto often did when he was uncomfortable. "Um…is there anything else you wanted to talk about?"

Gaara took a slow, deep breath. "Forgive me."

"For what?"

"I'm not sure how to talk about this. It's not the sort of thing you just say without any preamble, but I couldn't ask anyone for advice, since there's no one I feel comfortable talking to except you."

"It's okay. What is it?"

Another agonizing pause. "I'm not used to feeling things, Naruto. I'm especially not used to having feelings for other people. It took me years and a great deal of effort and courage just to form a relationship with my own brother and sister…and I'm still not very good at it. I often disappoint and hurt them with my selfishness."

"Aren't you being too hard on yourself?"

Gaara shook his head. "I spent years locked inside the private world of my own mind. I thought no one could love me, so I decided I would love myself and only myself. It's a hard habit to break. But…I've been thinking about it a great deal, and I've come to realize…" He stopped. "I'm finding it surprisingly difficult to get the words out. I apologize. I've probably made this more complicated and awkward than it needs to be. I'm not usually so indirect, but my mind has been a tangled mess lately."

His voice was trembling, Shikamaru realized. Whatever was going on, it had him really shaken up. "Please, just tell me. You know I'm not going to laugh at you."

He met Shikamaru's gaze. "I'm in love with you."

Oh.

Well…shit.

"I know you can't reciprocate those feelings, and I accept that," Gaara continued. "But I've never been in this situation before. I don't know how to deal with it, and it's ripping me up inside. I can't sleep. I can't eat. I know it's selfish of me, telling you this, but I don't know what else to do. I'm afraid to tell anyone else…but if I continued to hide it, I think I would have gone insane. And I mean that literally." His voice was stretched hard and tight, like a drumhead.

Gaara was always so guarded, so cautious. It must be torture for him, exposing his heart like this. He could see that pain etched into every line of Gaara's body. What was he supposed to do? What would Naruto do?

"How…" Shikamaru's voice cracked. He swallowed, cleared his throat and tried again. "How long have you felt this way about me?"

"I don't know. Maybe years. Maybe I've felt this way since the Chuunin Exams. But I didn't realize it until after you saved my life."

"It was Chiyo who revived you." He heard his own voice—Naruto's voice, rather—reply as if from a distance.

"I know. But you were the one who rescued me from Akatsuki. You were the one I saw when I opened my eyes. I was in this cold, empty, white place—alone—and then suddenly you were there, your hand on my shoulder, looking at me. Smiling at me. After that, I couldn't stop thinking about you. Your image is always, always in my mind."

Shikamaru realized his jaw was hanging open again. He shut it.

Gaara glanced at his face, then looked away. "I'm sorry. You're the first true friend I've ever had, and now I've spoiled it." His breathing quickened. "Now you're uncomfortable with me."

In spite of all the shock and confusion and general weirdness, the pain in his voice tugged at Shikamaru's heart. Gaara was just so _alone…_but not for lack of trying. Unlike Sasuke, Gaara didn't set up walls around himself or push people away. He simply had no idea how to relate to them. He'd worked his ass off to become the Kazekage so he could have some connection with his village, but even now, he seemed cut off from humanity.

And now he was standing there, trembling, almost hyperventilating. Shikamaru had never seen him so scared. All because he was afraid of Naruto's rejection; afraid that he'd alienated the one person who understood him. Shikamaru had to do something.

He took a step closer, then another. Hoping he wasn't making a big mistake, he wrapped his arms around Gaara and hugged him. He felt Gaara's body stiffen. "It's okay," he whispered.

For a moment, Gaara remained rigid and frozen in his arms. Then, slowly, a pair of slender arms crept around his waist and tentatively hugged him back.

"It's okay." Shikamaru's arms tightened around him. Damn, he was skinny. Even through those robes, Shikamaru could feel the bumps of his spine, the hollows of his ribs. Not that Gaara had ever been a bodybuilder, but it was obvious he hadn't been taking care of himself; he felt brittle, as if he might break under enough pressure. "You're still my friend. This doesn't change anything."

"Naruto," Gaara whispered hoarsely, "you…" He buried his face in the hollow between Shikamaru's neck and shoulder, breathing hard. He clutched at him with a frantic, bruising strength, fingers digging like claws into his back.

Shikamaru winced but didn't pull away. "Easy," he murmured. "Shh, easy. Just relax."

"Naruto, I love you so much. I can't help it," whispered that deep, trembling voice. "I'm sorry. But I just…my mind was collapsing, and the only thing I could think of was that I had to see you, that somehow you would make it better. It's foolish, I know, but I just…I had to see you, to tell you. I had to."

God, this was getting really out of control. Deceiving him like this, pretending to be someone he wasn't when Gaara was spilling out his wounded soul…it was so cruel. He couldn't let it go on. But if he revealed the truth now, it would spell disaster. Why had he let Temari pressure him into doing something he _knew _was crazy? Wasn't he supposed to be smarter than this?

"Gaara…" He swallowed, his mouth dry. "When's the last time you slept?"

"I don't know. Four days ago? Five?"

"Will you let me put you to bed?" Once Gaara fell asleep, he could think more clearly about what he needed to do. "Please. I--I'm worried about you. We can talk about this more once you're rested and clear-headed, okay?"

Gaara hesitated, then nodded.

Shikamaru gently pulled out of the embrace, but kept an arm around Gaara's shoulders. "Which way is your bedroom?"

Gaara led him down the hall to a spacious but sparsely furnished room. It was so clean, it looked more like a freshly made hotel room than one that a person actually lived in. Shikamaru pulled back the covers, and Gaara stretched out on the bed. "Here." Shikamaru tucked the covers in around him.

"I don't think I'll be able to sleep. Lately, when I try, I just toss and turn. My mind won't settle down."

"Maybe I can help." Shikamaru pulled up a chair and sat next to the bed. On impulse, he smoothed Gaara's red hair from his brow.

Gaara's breath caught in his throat, then escaped in a soft, shuddering sigh.

"What is it?"

"Your touch." His eyes closed. "I've waited so long to feel it again." A pause. Then, "Your chakra feels different from before. Why?"

Shikamaru tensed up but replied without a hitch: "I've been learning some new jutsu. Maybe that's it? I don't know how these things work, to be honest. How is it different?"

"I don't know. Last time it felt…sharper, somehow. Hot, like flames. Now it feels calmer. Warm and steady, like sunlight."

"Maybe it just changes according to my own emotions." Of course that wasn't true, but Gaara didn't seem inclined to question it. Shikamaru let his hand linger on Gaara's brow. His fingertips brushed the kanji on his forehead. "This isn't a tattoo, is it?"

"No. It's scar tissue."

"Who did it to you?"

"I did it to myself. After Yashamaru tried to kill me."

Shikamaru traced the shiny, reddish, slightly raised lines of the kanji. "Love," he murmured.

"Self-love. At least, that's what it meant to me at the time."

Or maybe, thought Shikamaru, it was a subconscious plea for love, a cry to the world: _Someone, anyone, love me—get me out of this lonely hell. _Was it any wonder he'd fallen in love with Naruto, the first person to show him empathy?

Absently, Shikamaru continued to stroke his head, fingers sliding through the rough, shaggy hair.

"Feels nice." Gaara sighed softly. His eyes opened a crack; a hint of sleepy green between those dark lids. "Naruto?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you think of me at all?"

His fingertips massaged Gaara's scalp. "How do you mean?"

"I mean…when you're in Konoha…do thoughts of me ever go through your mind? Even if it's only once in awhile?"

Shikamaru's heart ached. Gaara really had it bad for this guy. He wondered how the real Naruto felt about Gaara. He'd never even spoken of him…at least not that Shikamaru could recall. Yet they were both Jinchuuriki. Surely that gave them some connection. "Yeah," he whispered. "Yeah, I think about you."

Gaara gazed up at him. "I was so afraid you'd be disgusted. To see disgust in your eyes would have shattered me." A pause. "You must think I'm pathetic."

"No, I don't." How strange it was, to hear him talk this way. He'd never glimpsed this side of Gaara before. The Kazekage had always seemed so remote, so aloof; always calm and in control. "Just rest, okay? You need rest."

"Promise me you won't leave Suna before I wake. Promise I'll be able to see you at least once more before you go."

"I promise."

Gaara's breathing slowed and evened. Shikamaru kept stroking his hair until he drifted off. Then he let his hand fall to the bed. He watched Gaara sleep for a moment, then rested his elbows on his knees and buried his fingers in his hair.

God, what a mess. What was he supposed to do now?

-To be continued


	4. Chapter 4

Shikamaru returned to Temari's bedroom and released the jutsu. When the puff of smoke faded, he was himself again.

Temari stood facing him, her expression tight with anxiety. "Well?"

"I did it."

"How did it go?"

"As well as can be expected."

Temari waited. When he remained silent, she frowned and said, "And? Did he tell you what's been bothering him?"

"Yes, but it's personal. I don't feel right telling you something that he told me--or Naruto, rather--in confidence."

She spread her hands wide in a helpless gesture. "That's the whole reason I asked you to do this! I need to know what's going on so I can help him."

"There's really nothing you can do."

"But…" She looked at Shikamaru's expression. With a sigh of defeat, she slumped and sat on the edge of the bed. "At least tell me…does it have something to do with Shukaku?"

"No, nothing like that."

"Then why was he so intent on talking to Naruto? I assumed it was a Jinchuuriki thing."

"No, nothing to do with Bijuu. It's a personal problem—and a pretty normal one, all things considered. It's just that he has so little experience with human relationships, he wasn't sure how to deal with it. It has to do with…certain feelings he's been having."

"Feelings?"

"Yeah. Normal but painful feelings, the kind that a med-nin probably couldn't help him with. And it's not something that you or Kankuro could really help him with, either. He may decide to talk to you about it, but if he doesn't, then he doesn't. Trying to push him won't help."

She clenched her fists. "How can you just dismiss it so easily? I mean…maybe this problem, whatever it is, is normal. But Gaara _isn't_. If he doesn't find some way to cope with this, he could end up killing someone. He's already come close. He's exhausted and agitated all the time. What am I supposed to do if he snaps and crushes a council member to death? How am I supposed to protect him from all the people who decide he's too dangerous to retain his position as Kazekage—or hell, too dangerous to live?"

Shikamaru hesitated. "Hopefully it won't come to that." Not a great answer, but the only one he had at the moment. "Anyway, I got him to sleep, at least. Hopefully that will help. After he wakes up I'll try to get him to eat something."

Her brow furrowed. "You're planning to keep this up? This deception?"

He glared at her. "Don't say it like that. This was _your _idea. If 'Naruto' just vanishes now, it'll seem suspicious. Anyway, I promised him I wouldn't leave before he woke, so I have to see him at least once more." He sighed. "And after this, I'll have to find the actual Naruto and explain what happened and how Gaara feels. It's going to be a very long, very weird, very uncomfortable explanation. But if he doesn't know, then his next visit to Suna is going to be pretty confusing for both him and Gaara."

"What in the world did he tell you?" She stared at him. He stared back. Her eyes widened. "No," she whispered. "He didn't. He's not…is he?"

Shikamaru didn't respond.

"Oh my God." Temari averted her gaze. For a moment, neither one of them spoke. "I'm sorry," she said at last, her voice cracking. "I shouldn't have dragged you into this. I just didn't know what else to do."

Shikamaru clenched his fists. His chest tightened with anger. "It was a bluff," he said, controlling his tone as best he could. "Wasn't it? When you said you'd go to the Hokage and that she'd force me to take part in this plan. There's no way she'd have agreed to something so risky. I should have seen through it."

"I thought you would. I've never been able to outwit you before. I mean…hell, I haven't beat you once at shogi."

"I guess real life is a little different, isn't it? It's hard for me to think clearly when I'm around you. You've always had that effect on me."

"It's not intentional." A long pause. "I thought no one would have to get hurt," she whispered, "that you'd learn what you needed to learn and that would be that. But it's not that simple, is it?"

"No. It's very difficult for Gaara to trust people…but then, I probably don't need to tell you that. If he finds out that wasn't really Naruto…well, you can imagine."

"Oh God." She sounded like she was about to cry.

Shikamaru couldn't help it. He looked at her. As soon as he did, his anger melted…and he wondered, not for the first time, why he was so weak around women, why their tears affected him so—why he could never stay mad at one for more than a minute or two, even when he had a damn good reason.

He sat next to Temari and lay a hand over hers. "It's okay." He smoothed her soft, wheat-colored hair. "I'll fix this somehow."

"I can't ask you to fix my mess." She took a deep breath. "I'll tell Gaara myself. I'll tell him everything."

Shikamaru tensed. "Don't."

"Why?"

"For one thing, because it would hurt him. For another, because he might hurt you."

"But if he finds out on his own somehow, it'll be worse. And he's not stupid. He's bound to figure it out sooner or later."

"He won't find out. I'll make sure of that."

"Shikamaru…" She shut her eyes. A tear slipped out from beneath her lashes, and she looked away, wiping the back of one hand across her face. "Damn," she muttered. "I hate crying. I feel like such a fucking girl."

"You're a woman, but you're not a fucking girl. Not in the sense that you mean anyway."

A faint smile touched her lips, then faded quickly. "Are you still going back to Konoha after this?"

"I don't know." He stared at the floor. "I don't know what I'm going to do."

* * *

Gaara woke feeling more rested than he had in weeks. He glanced at the clock. 7:35 pm. He had slept for over six hours. For him, that was almost unheard of. Years of living with Shukaku had conditioned him to wake before he entered the deepest stage of sleep; Gaara was lucky if he could nap for more than an hour at a time.

He looked around the room, and his heart sank. He was alone. He supposed he should have expected that, but some small, foolish part of him had hoped that Naruto would be there when he woke.

_Naruto…_

He stared into space as the memory of their conversation ran through his mind. That had gone better than he anticipated. Of course Naruto didn't return his feelings, but he'd known that already. At least Naruto didn't seem shocked or repulsed by his confession. Perhaps they could still be friends. It was more than he'd dared to hope for…but then, Naruto had a habit of surprising him.

He stretched out on the bed and closed his eyes. His heartbeat quickened as he remembered those gentle, warm fingers on his scalp, combing through his hair. Gaara had never been drunk before, but surely that was what it felt like—that pleasant buzz in his head, the warmth that poured over his brain like honey and crept down his spine, into every part of his body, until he felt as if he were floating, suspended in a sea of healing light.

The door creaked open, and a blue eye peered in. "Hey, you're awake!" Naruto pushed the door open, and the sight of him went through Gaara's heart like a spear: broad smile, warm blue eyes, and that perpetually mussed-up golden hair. He longed to sink his fingers into that hair, feel its shaggy texture, breathe in its scent.

Naruto approached, pulled up a chair and sat by his bedside. Gaara noticed that he was holding a tray with a covered bowl and a plate of fruit slices. Now, he set the tray on the bed and looked into Gaara's eyes, his expression filled with concern and a touch of…guilt? "Temari told me you haven't been eating anything lately."

Gaara lowered his gaze. "I haven't had much appetite."

"Well, you can't live on air. Will you have just a few bites of this for me? I'll even feed it to you if you like. Sometimes Sakura-chan does that for me when I'm not feeling well."

"Thank you," Gaara murmured.

He lifted the cover off the bowl, which was filled with oatmeal, and scooped up a spoonful. "Careful, it's hot."

He fed a few spoonfuls to Gaara. Then Gaara murmured, "I can do it," and took the spoon. He would have been content to lay there and let Naruto feed him like an infant, but he didn't want to trouble him. He'd already caused more than enough trouble for Naruto—nearly killing him after the Chuunin Exams, then getting into that mess with Akatsuki and needing to be rescued. It was a wonder Naruto still wanted to be around him.

He finished the oatmeal and nibbled on the fruit slices, noticing—as he did—that his appetite had come back.

"Hey," said Naruto, his voice oddly soft, "do you want to do something with me after this?"

Gaara met his gaze, and his heartbeat quickened. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, we could have a sparring match or go for a walk or just lay on the roof and watch the sunset."

"Sunset?" Somehow, that was never something he'd pictured Naruto doing.

"Sure." Naruto laced his fingers together behind his head. "We can just relax and talk."

"All right." Gaara stared at floor.

"Gaara?"

"I've been a mess," he said quietly. "For weeks, I've felt so lost. Like I'm coming undone. But now that you're here…" He trailed off.

Naruto lay a hand on his shoulder. "I'm glad I could help you." His voice sounded oddly sad. Gaara wondered why.

* * *

They lay atop a slightly slanted, shingled roof, gazing up at the sky. There weren't many clouds in the desert, but there were a few—remote, gauzy wisps sketched in white against the purple-blue twilight. Shikamaru watched Gaara from the corner of his eye.

All afternoon, as Gaara slept, Shikamaru had been trying to think of some way to deal with this. He hadn't come up with any good answers. If "Naruto" left now, right after Gaara's big confession, it would seem cold and abrupt and probably bruise the Kazekage's already-considerably-bruised heart. But the longer "Naruto" hung around, the deeper Shikamaru ensnared himself in this web of lies. Maybe right now, hanging around a little longer was the lesser of two evils, but he had to be very careful.

In any case, having "Naruto" around seemed to stabilize Gaara somewhat. "Hey, Gaara…" He paused, trying to think of something Naruto might ask. "What's it like not having Shukaku inside you anymore?"

"It isn't much different, actually. I don't hear his voice anymore, of course. But aside from that, I feel the same as always. I wonder…even when I was younger, when I had those fits of bloodlust, was it ever really him? Or was it just me?"

"I don't know. It isn't really the same for me. I mean, I almost never hear the Kyuubi's voice. He only comes out at all when I get really worked up." Naruto had told him this before. "But Shukaku was always with you, wasn't he?"

"More or less. But it wasn't like being with another person. It's difficult to put into words." He stared at the sky, his dark-ringed eyes expressionless. "I'm weaker than I was. I still have the sand. It still protects me and I can still control it. But I don't have as much chakra as I used to. I tire more easily."

"Have you told anyone about that?"

"Just Temari and Kankuro. If the knowledge became more widespread, I fear that certain people might try to overthrow me."

Shikamaru sat up on the roof and looked at him. "But why? You're their Kazekage. You protected the village from Akatsuki…"

"As some have rightly pointed out, it's a threat they would never have had to face in the first place if I hadn't been there. The Akatsuki were hunting _me._ Even now, as the Kazekage, I wonder if this village would be better off without me."

"That's crazy. You've done so much for Suna. And the people know it. You heard them cheering for you when you came back alive. They were happy to see you. Happy to have their Kazekage back." Naruto had told him that, too. "And even without Shukaku, you're probably still the strongest ninja in the village."

Gaara just stared at him with those haunting teal eyes. And Shikamaru had the crazy impulse to gather him up in his arms and hug him or tickle him—to do something,anything, to make him smile. Those eyes were just so damned _sad. _"Say, why don't we go do something fun?" he blurted out.

"Like what?"

"Let's go have some sake."

"We're still under-aged."

"So what? You're the Kazekage, man." He grinned. "No one's gonna tell you that you can't have a drink." He grabbed Gaara's wrist, and Gaara blinked at him in surprise. "Come on. It'll be fun!"

"Well..." Gaara hesitated. "All right."

* * *

Shortly after, they sat in the corner booth of a restaurant, a bottle of sake on the table between them. Shikamaru had already downed a few cups and was feeling a light, pleasant buzz in his head.

Gaara eyed the contents of his own cup suspiciously. He sniffed it and wrinkled his nose. "It smells like garbage."

"It's kind of an acquired taste. Just try it."

Gaara took a sip and coughed. He set the cup down. "This is disgusting."

"Aw, it's not _that _bad."

Gaara crossed his arms over his chest and frowned at the cup, as if it had somehow insulted him.

"Hey, do you like sweet things?"

"Sometimes. Why?"

"You could order one of those girly drinks. Y'know, the fruity kind. Maybe that would taste better to you. You like strawberries?"

"Yes."

Shikamaru scanned the drink menu. "Hey!" He waved to the waiter. "Can we have a Strawberry Whirlwind?"

The waiter brought the drink to them a few minutes later; a tall plastic glass filled with bright pink liquid, garnished with a strawberry and a curly straw. Gaara sipped it. "This isn't bad," he said.

"See?"

Before long, Gaara had drained the glass, and there was a slight flush in his cheeks. He leaned back in the booth and hiccupped. "I feel fuzzy."

"You okay? You wanna head back?"

"Maybe. Yes."

Gaara left some money on the table, and Shikamaru helped him to his feet. They left the restaurant and walked down the dark street. Gaara stumbled.

"Woah." Shikamaru slipped an arm around his waist, steadying him, and Gaara leaned against him. He looked up at Shikamaru. Maybe it was just the fact that he had quite a bit of sake in him, or maybe it was the moonlight or the uncharacteristically soft expression on Gaara's face just then, but he looked sort of cute.

"Naruto, you know what?" he murmured, his voice slurred. "Your eyes are so blue. They're like...blueberries."

"Yeah. I guess they are. Yours remind me of those little mint candies with dark chocolate around the edge. Er…y'know, because they're green and they have those dark rings around them…"

This seemed to strike Gaara as funny. He let out a soft little giggle—then his eyes went wide and he clapped a hand over his mouth, as if frightened by the sound of his own laughter. Maybe he'd never heard it before.

"You have a nice laugh," Shikamaru said.

"Thank you." Gaara stumbled again, and Shikamaru gently lifted him into his arms. "Maybe I should carry you."

"Mmmph." Gaara grabbed two fistfuls of his shirt, buried his face against it and breathed in deep. "You smell smoky. Have you been hanging around Shikamaru?"

He chuckled. "A bit." He looked down at those sleepy, dark-ringed eyes, those flushed cheeks. "You really can't handle your alcohol. I shouldn't have pushed you to drink that. But maybe I wanted to see you drunk."

"Mm? Why?"

"I don't know. You're so rigid and self-possessed all the time. I wanted to see you relax, that's all."

They approached the main entrance. The guards frowned in puzzlement at the sight of their Kazekage curled up like a sleepy child in Naruto's arms. "Kazekage-sama? Are you…"

"Fine," Gaara murmured.

"He just had a little too much to drink."

They looked at each other, then shrugged and opened the doors. Shikamaru walked through, still carrying Gaara. He'd been a little worried that they would give him trouble, since he didn't look like himself—but Temari must have told them that Naruto was in Suna. They didn't say anything.

Shikamaru carried Gaara to his room and lay him down, then sat on the edge of the bed next to him. "How do you feel?"

"Nice. Relaxed. Will you do that thing you were doing to my head before?"

"Hmm? What's that?"

"You were rubbing my scalp. It felt nice."

"Like this?" Shikamaru slid his fingers through Gaara's short, shaggy hair and rubbed in small circles on the crown of his head.

"Mmmm." Gaara leaned into the caress. "Feels so good."

Shikamaru smiled. His fingers slid further back, to the nape of Gaara's neck, and massaged the soft skin there.

Gaara let out a contented little sigh, and his eyes slipped shut. For a few minutes, he was silent, and Shikamaru thought he'd dozed off. Then he spoke quietly: "All my life I've been hungry for this. For touch. Maybe that's why I used to kill people—because that was the only way I could really touch them." He opened his eyes and stared at his own hand. "When I was a child, no one would get near me if they could help it. Even Yashamaru. He didn't like to touch me. He'd flinch or pull away. I should have realized that he hated me. It was obvious, but…I needed to believe he loved me. I needed that to live. And when he took it away, I died. The child I was turned into someone else."

"I'm sorry," Shikamaru murmured. It was all he could think of to say. He wasn't Naruto; he couldn't pretend to understand the loneliness of being a Jinchuuriki. But he did have some idea of what had happened to Gaara when he was younger, and the idea of a little kid going through that made his heart cramp. "What he did to you was wrong."

"I spent years hating him. But lately, I've been thinking about it from his perspective. How it must have been for him, being forced to take care of me. Me, the person whose birth had taken away his most important person and ruined his life. Seeing me, day after day, being reminded of that pain." As he spoke, Gaara's expression never changed. His voice was a low monotone, like someone under hypnosis. "It was hell for him, I'm sure. And then he received the order to assassinate me. He could have rejected it, but then what? The job would have fallen to someone else, someone else would have died in his place. In the end, what was his crime? He told me the truth, that's all. It was cold and ugly, but sometimes truth is."

"That doesn't make it right. You were just an innocent child. You didn't deserve to be hurt like that." He continued to massage Gaara's scalp. "I wish I'd known you back then. I wish I could've been your friend."

"Me too," he whispered.

After a few minutes, Shikamaru spoke quietly: "I can't stay in Suna for much longer."

"Will you stay the night, at least? It would make more sense to leave tomorrow morning."

"Yeah. I'll stay the night." He looked into those pale blue-green eyes. Up close, they were kind of amazing, like two spheres of polished, semi-translucent stone. Their shade seemed to shift with the light, as if they were composed of layers of color, blues upon greens. His head was still buzzing with sake. Maybe that's why he said what he did just then. "Your eyes really _are _pretty, you know."

"You like my eyes?"

"Yeah."

Gaara raised one hand to touch his left eyebrow…or rather, the smooth skin above his eye. "I've never liked them."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. They're just a reminder of how different I am. I don't like having dark rings around them all the time. I don't like how empty they are when I look at myself in the mirror. When I was a child I sometimes overheard people talking about how creepy and inhuman my eyes were."

"I like your dark rings. They give you a distinctive look." He traced one with his fingertip, and Gaara blinked. "And I don't think your eyes are empty. There's a lot going on in there. You just have to know how to read them." He felt so relaxed, he wanted to lay down. So he stretched out on the bed next to Gaara, still gazing into his eyes. "I like looking into them. I like looking at you." As the words slipped from his mouth, he realized—somewhat to his surprise—that they were true. He _did _like looking at Gaara, though he couldn't have said why.

Gaara gazed at him in silence for a long moment. "I like your eyes too," he said quietly.

Shikamaru's heartbeat quickened. "Why?"

"They make me feel warm down to the center of my being. After our first battle, when I lay broken and defeated on the ground, you looked at me, and I saw compassion in your eyes. It was so unexpected. It pierced me. I felt like you understood me—every particle of my soul—like you saw everything inside me, and forgave all the terrible things I had done. You broke me with those eyes. But in the same instant, you healed me."

"Gaara, I…" He fell silent. Their faces were inches apart, so close that Shikamaru could barely focus on his features. His heart went _thump-thump-thump _in his chest, and he felt each beat down to his fingertips and toes. He gulped, and his gaze focused on Gaara's lips. They looked unexpectedly soft and tempting. He wanted to see if they were as soft as they looked. He watched as his own hand drifted up to Gaara's face. His thumb touched the corner of his mouth, then slowly traced the curve of that perfect, silky lower lip.

Gaara drew in his breath sharply, as if he'd been burned. His whole body went rigid.

"Sorry."

"N-no. It felt good."

Shikamaru gazed into his eyes. "You're trembling," he murmured. With the backs of his fingers, he stroked Gaara's cheek. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. I just…I've never been this close to you before."

He wondered if Gaara had ever been this close to _anyone _before. Shikamaru smoothed his hair, and Gaara let out a little sigh. It was an addictive feeling, having someone react so strongly to his closeness, his touch.

"Will you say my name?" whispered Gaara. "I just want to hear you say it."

"Gaara."

His eyes closed, and another tremor ran through him.

"Gaara," he said again, softly. He stroked the side of Gaara's neck. God, his skin was soft. Shikamaru saw the flutter of his pulse and ran his thumb over it. "Your heart's beating so fast." His fingertips trailed lower, over Gaara's collarbones, the small hollow between them. He realized that Gaara seemed to have stopped breathing, and he paused. "What's wrong?"

Gaara let out his breath in a rush. "I feel so strange."

"How so?"

"I don't know." He blinked. Then his brow creased, distorting the scar over his eye. "It's happening to me again."

"Hmm?"

He frowned—a puzzled, frustrated, cross expression—and Shikamaru couldn't help thinking that it looked oddly cute on him. Now, Gaara sat up and looked down at his own crotch. His pants were noticeably tented. "I'm getting an erection."

Heat rushed to Shikamaru's face. "Oh. Um…"

Gaara met his gaze. "Do you ever get those?"

"Well, sure." He rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks hot. "All boys do."

"It didn't start for me until recently. I've been trying to relieve myself through masturbation, like Kankuro recommended, but I haven't had much success."

Shikamaru stared. "You…don't know how to masturbate?"

"I've tried. I can't seem to achieve orgasm. I don't know what I'm doing wrong. Maybe there's just something wrong with me." Gaara hesitated. "Will you show me how?"

"Umm. Well…" He gulped. "I don't know if I really should."

"Please. Nobody wants to show me." A hint of desperation crept into his voice. "Nobody wants to touch me."

Shikamaru bit his lower lip and stared at the bulge in Gaara's pants. Damn, this situation just kept getting more and more awkward and troublesome. It was his own fault, he knew--he should have just gone back to his own bedroom instead of laying down here with Gaara. He ought to get out of here before he made it worse. But Gaara sounded so plaintive…and it was such a simple thing, really. It'd probably only take a couple minutes…

_No. _He shook his head. What was he thinking? "I'm sorry, Gaara, I can't. I wouldn't feel right about it."

"Why not?" His tone wasn't demanding or insistent, just puzzled, but the question put Shikamaru on edge, all the same.

"I don't want to, okay? I'd feel weird about touching you like that. We aren't lovers, and having a friend jerk you off just isn't something normal people do."

Silence. Shikamaru looked up to see Gaara's face twisted in pain, smooth brows knitted together, eyes wide and stricken. His mouth quivered. Then he bit his lower lip and looked away, his whole body trembling. And Shikamaru realized how that must have sounded. "Shit. That wasn't…that's not how I meant it." He palmed his face. "I didn't say that right at all. I'm sorry."

Gaara stared at the wall, back stiff and fists clenched. He was breathing hard, like a trapped animal.

"It's not that I think there's anything wrong with you, or with someone wanting to touch you…"

"You're repulsed with me. You think I'm a freak. A monster."

"No." He touched Gaara's shoulder. "That's not it at all. It's just…you're a guy, and I've never really been into guys in that way, so the idea of doing something like that just…I don't know, it feels weird, that's all. But it's not personal. It's not you."

Gaara looked up, his eyes shining and wet.

"Oh, Gaara, don't. Please." He felt something close to panic nibbling at the edges of his mind. As far as he knew, no one had ever seen Gaara cry. The Kazekage might be hurting inside, but he hid everything behind a mask of stone. All it had taken was a few words from him to crack that mask. "Please don't."

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"It's okay." He grabbed a handful of tissues from the box on the nightstand and wiped the tears from Gaara's cheeks, but more streamed down. A part of his brain noted that Gaara's tears had much the same effect on him that Temari's did—maybe even more so. He wondered what that meant.

"It's just…no one wants to touch me," Gaara whispered. "Not even you."

"Gaara…" Shikamaru leaned closer, his gaze never leaving those wide, wet green eyes. And before he knew it, he was kissing him.

-To be continued


	5. Chapter 5

The kiss was soft, almost chaste: just a gentle pressure of lips against lips. But it went through Shikamaru's body like a bolt of lightning. He pulled back, heart pounding, and looked into Gaara's wide eyes.

"Naruto…" Gaara raised a hand to his mouth and touched his own lips. His fingers trembled slightly. "You kissed me." He sounded dazed.

Shikamaru cleared his throat, his cheeks hot. Why had he just done that? "Yeah. I guess I did. I just…" He rubbed the back of his neck, his face burning like a torch. "I want you to understand, I _do _care about you. This is just a really strange situation for me." Boy, that was an understatement.

Gaara lowered his gaze. "I'm sorry I asked you to do that. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. It's hard for me to think clearly when I'm in this state. When I'm…" He paused, as if searching for the word. "When I'm aroused."

Strange, thought Shikamaru, that he'd never experienced this until recently. But then, nothing about Gaara's life had been typical. He glanced down at Gaara's pants. The bulge was still there. Damn, this must be frustrating for him—being in love, being aroused all the time and unable to even relieve himself.

Oh, hell. It probably wouldn't be that much different than touching his own cock, and Gaara needed it so much, it seemed almost selfish not to. "I'll help you, okay? I'll show you how to do it."

"You will? But…you said…"

"It's not a big deal. I was just surprised when you asked me, that's all. Lay back and relax." He propped a stack of pillow against the bed's headboard, then pushed gently on Gaara's shoulders until he leaned back against it.

He started to reach for the drawstring of Gaara's pants, then froze.

He'd never touched another guy's dick before. He'd never felt the urge to. Yet now, he found himself sort of…not hating the idea. Gaara seemed somehow _cleaner _than any other guy he'd met. Not in a hygiene-related way, exactly, but in some other way he had trouble putting into words.

Of course, Temari would definitely _not _approve of him doing something like this, and even though he wasn't sure what their relationship-status was at this point, he didn't feel right about being intimate with someone else. But then, this wasn't about his own pleasure; he would just be helping Gaara find some relief. It wasn't sex. It was more like doing a friend a favor…sort of.

Shikamaru took a deep breath. Then he slid down Gaara's pants and boxers, exposing his cock. And Shikamaru couldn't help noticing that, for such a little guy, Gaara had a pretty big dick. Right now it was so engorged and hard, it looked almost painful. A raised vein meandered from its base to its tip.

"Um…do you have any lotion?"

"In the drawer."

He opened the drawer and rummaged through until he found a small jar of hand-cream. It would do. He unscrewed the lid and scooped some of the slippery cream out. "Here, watch how I do it." He spread the cream over his palm. Then he curled his fingers around Gaara's cock.

Gaara's eyes widened, and his lips parted. He'd been propped up on his elbows; now, his arms slid out from under him, and he fell back against the stack of pillows, chest heaving. When Shikamaru slid his hand up and down the length of Gaara's erection, a soft moan escaped his throat, and a flush rose into his cheeks. "That feels good," he whispered.

Shikamaru watched Gaara's face. His heart pounded. He realized, to his surprise and embarrassment, that his own cock was hard. He moved his hand up and down, stroking Gaara from base to head. Gaara moaned again, his eyelids fluttering. His fingers dug into the bed sheets. "Naruto…" He sounded confused, almost frightened, as if he didn't know how to react to this sudden onslaught of sensation.

Shikamaru smiled, trying to reassure him. "Just relax." His hand glided up and down the hot, slippery length of Gaara's cock. It really wasn't much different than stroking his own—but at the same time, he knew, there was a world of difference.

Gaara's gaze never left him. He stared raptly at Shikamaru, as if he needed the sight of Naruto's face to anchor himself in this maelstrom of new feelings. "Am I…" His deep, soft voice trembled slightly. "Am I your friend?"

Shikamaru felt a twinge of emotion somewhere inside him. "Sure you are. You know that."

He gulped, his cheeks flushed pink. "Will you…say it?"

"You're my friend, Gaara."

A small moan. Gaara's dark eyelids lowered. He panted as Shikamaru stroked him harder and faster. "Naruto…" His fingers dug into the bed sheets. He gasped. His hips twitched, bucked, then arched off the bed as come spurted from the tip of his cock. He flopped back down to the bed, panting and flushed, his expression dazed. "So that's what it feels like," he murmured. Slowly, his gaze focused on Shikamaru's face. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He combed his fingers through Gaara's hair. Then he stretched out next to him. "Are you okay?"

"Yes." Gaara gazed at him, his expression soft and dreamy. Shikamaru smiled…then the smile fell away. He could see his reflection in Gaara's eyes, but of course, it wasn't _him. _Naruto's face stared back at him from those pale green pupils.

"Naruto? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said quietly. He wrapped his arms around Gaara and pulled him gently close. His heart ached. In that moment, he wanted more than anything to _be _Naruto—to really be the person that Gaara loved and longed for so much. He held Gaara's head to his chest and kept rubbing his scalp in the way he seemed to find so soothing.

Gaara hummed—not a song, just a soft, monotone hum in the back of his throat, like a cat's purr.

Before tonight, "cute" was not a word Shikamaru would have used to describe the Kazekage. But cuddled up in his arms like this, bathed in the languid warmth of orgasm, Gaara had lost all the tension and sharp edges that usually defined him. He was a boneless bundle of slender, soft limbs and messy red hair, like a velvet doll. Shikamaru hugged him closer and nuzzled the top of his head. His hair smelled warm and faintly spicy.

His own body refused to relax. He was trying very hard not to let his stiff dick brush against any part of Gaara's anatomy, but that wasn't easy.

"Naruto?" Gaara murmured.

"Hmm?"

"You have an erection."

"Sorry."

"Does that mean you're aroused?"

"Well, yeah."

Gaara shifted, and his stomach brushed against the bulge in Shikamaru's pants. He gasped. Gaara froze. "Did I hurt you?"

"N-no." He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I, uh, I need to go to the bathroom for a few minutes."

Gaara frowned and nodded. Shikamaru retreated into the bathroom and jerked off as quickly as he could, then returned to the bed. Gaara looked down at his pants. "It's gone."

"Yeah, I took care of it."

"I thought…I thought maybe you would let me do that."

"Well, there's no need." He gave Gaara a smile, which Gaara didn't return. His own smile faded, and he sighed. "Look, I…"

"Did you find it distasteful? To touch me that way?"

"No, I didn't." He scratched the back of his head. "It wasn't a big deal at all. If I'm being really honest with myself, I guess I kind of enjoyed it."

"But you don't want me to touch you."

"It's a bit much for me right now. That's all. I'm going to be questioning my sexuality after this as it is. I mean, I always assumed I only liked women, so the fact that I got turned on giving another guy a hand-job…I don't know."

"Does it really matter that much? That I'm male? I know very little about sex, but I don't believe homosexuality is considered taboo in most civilized countries."

"It's not really that. I'm not concerned about what anyone else thinks of it. It's just my own perception of myself. I need some time to process this, I guess."

"All right." Gaara hesitated. "Will you hold me?"

Shikamaru enfolded Gaara in his arms and waited until his breathing grew slow and even. Then—once he was sure Gaara was asleep—he gently untangled himself from that warm embrace and left the room.

* * *

On the morning after "Naruto" left, Shikamaru--while standing in the hall--overheard Gaara anxiously asking Temari if his friend was still in Suna. Temari replied, "I'm sorry, he's been gone for hours. He said that you were sleeping so peacefully, he didn't want to wake you." Gaara visibly deflated, and Shikamaru's heart contracted in a spasm of shame.

But it was for the best. Wasn't it?

* * *

Over the next week, things more or less returned to normal.

Shikamaru moved his things back into his own room. He and Temari didn't talk about what had happened. They didn't talk much at all. He went to meetings, watched clouds from the rooftop, and wandered the village. He should have been relieved that the deception was over, that everything was (at least on the surface) as it should be.

The only problem was that he couldn't get Gaara out of his head. At night, he lay awake, staring at the ceiling and thinking about that soft, cream-colored skin, those pale blue-green eyes.

It was crazy. The only reason he'd gotten close to Gaara was because Temari asked him to. Things had just…gotten out of hand. But now Gaara had made a nest for himself in Shikamaru's subconscious and wouldn't leave. Now Shikamaru was dreaming about him every night. When he went to council meetings and saw Gaara there, his heartbeat quickened, his mouth went dry and his palms dampened.

He tried to reason with his subconscious. Gaara was a dude, he reminded himself. Gaara had a cock and a pair of hairy balls. Okay, not _that_ hairy. But regardless. Not only was he a guy, he was the Kazekage _and _Temari's brother. And even setting all that aside, he didn't like Shikamaru. He liked someone else.

Whenever Shikamaru reminded himself of that particular detail, he wanted to punch himself. No matter how you looked at it, he'd done a really shitty thing to Gaara, deceiving him like that. He found himself watching the red-haired man intently during meetings, trying to glean some hint of what was going on in his heart and head, but he couldn't see through that stone mask. Gaara only ever dropped it for Naruto.

* * *

Shikamaru stood in the hall outside the council room, leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, mouth dry. He could hear Gaara's footsteps moving toward him; a moment later, Gaara came into view as he rounded the corner. As Gaara walked past, he cleared his throat. "Hey…"

Gaara paused and looked at him with flat, blank eyes. "Yes?"

Shikamaru hesitated, heart pounding, hands sweaty and clenched tight in his pockets. Those green eyes stared at him from within their dark rings, empty of emotion. It hurt to have Gaara look at him so indifferently. "Um…you wanna go get a drink later?"

Gaara blinked. A small furrow appeared between his smooth brows. "A drink?"

"Yeah." Shikamaru swallowed. "I thought…you know, I see you around a lot, but we never really hang out. I thought maybe we could get to know each other better."

Gaara stared at him. "You're sweating."

"Oh. I am?"

"Is something wrong?"

"N-no, it's just…this heat. I'm still not really used to it. So, do you want to?"

Gaara seemed to consider for a moment, then said, "All right. I can't stay out long though. I have a lot of paperwork."

Shikamaru relaxed slightly, and they walked down the hall together. "You can delegate some of that stuff to your underlings, you know. You don't have to sign everything personally."

"I don't like delegating things. It feels lazy and irresponsible."

"You've got so much on your plate as it is, though. Hell, if I was Kazekage I'd probably delegate everything I could. Of course, a lot of people would say I'm the very definition of lazy and irresponsible."

"If that were the case, you wouldn't have been chosen as Konoha's ambassador."

He shrugged. "I suppose this is the perfect job for me. Not a lot of actual work, so I don't have much to bitch about, but it requires a lot of tact, caution and careful thinking. I mean, if I make one misstep…" Like, for instance, disguising himself as the Kazekage's true love and then giving him a hand-job. "…I could damage the alliance between Suna and Konoha."

"I don't think there's any risk of that happening," said Gaara. "Konoha is our trusted ally."

Guilt gnawed on Shikamaru's heart as he and Gaara walked down the street, toward the nearest bar—the same restaurant where, a week earlier, he'd bought Gaara a Strawberry Whirlwind and gotten him buzzed. He wondered why he was doing this now. Did he intend to spark a friendship between himself and Gaara? Wouldn't that just make this whole situation _more _complicated? If he was being honest with himself, he supposed he just wanted to be close to him. Sit next to him, talk to him, breathe in that haunting, subtle smell…that dark, dry, spicy scent, like roses and incense and moonlit desert nights…

_Oh God help me, I'm falling in love._

"We're here," said Gaara.

"Uh? Oh, yeah." They went into the bar and took a seat at the faded booth in the corner. Same place he'd sat with Gaara last time.

"Are you sure you're all right? You seem agitated."

"It's nothing. Personal issues." At Gaara's probing look, he added, "Temari and I sort of had a falling out." Which was true, in a way. There'd been a wall between them ever since the incident. "It's been a few days since we've spoken."

"Oh."

A long moment of silence dragged by. Shikamaru wondered why it was so much easier to talk to Gaara when he was Naruto. But then, Gaara and Naruto had a shared history. What did Shikamaru have? His only connection with Gaara was his relationship with Temari and the fact that they saw each other at meetings once in awhile. "I, uh…" He cleared his throat. "You can get anything you want. My treat."

"I'm not sure I should drink right now. Alcohol seems to affect me strongly, and I have work to do this afternoon. Perhaps I'll just get milk."

"Okay."

More awkward silence. He stared across the table at that achingly beautiful face, those dark-ringed eyes—eyes that looked blue in dim light, but now, pierced by the sunlight from the window, they gleamed the color of new spring leaves. He swallowed, his heart beating in his throat. His fingers drummed against his knee. God, this was anguish. Should he just tell Gaara he was attracted to him? No, that would be disastrous. "Gaara, I, uh…I just want you to know…I know we haven't talked that much, but if you ever _do _want to talk, I wouldn't mind listening."

Gaara's eyes clouded with confusion, then narrowed slightly. "Did Temari put you up to this?"

"What? No!"

"Are you doing this out of pity, then? Because I seem lonely?"

"No, that's not it at all. Jeez. Is it so hard to believe I just wanted to hang out with you?"

"You've never expressed much interest in me in the past. Why now?"

"I don't know. Do I need a reason? I just wanted to."

"Then why are you so uncomfortable? You keep fidgeting in your seat." The suspicion in his eyes sliced through Shikamaru's heart. "You're not acting like yourself."

Shikamaru hesitated. He couldn't tell Gaara it was his imagination, because it wasn't. "I can't explain it," he said. "I'm sorry."

Gaara frowned and said nothing.

A waiter came and took their orders. He brought them their drinks a few minutes later. Gaara drank his milk in two swigs, then said, "I really should be getting back to work."

"Okay."

He left. Shikamaru sat alone in the corner booth for awhile longer and nursed his sake, his heart heavy, his head a tangled mess. He closed his eyes and Gaara's face lingered on his retinas, like the afterimage of a lightning flash.

* * *

Later, Shikamaru lay in bed, smoking and staring at the ceiling. Someone knocked on his door. "Who is it?"

"It's Temari. Can we talk?"

"Come in."

Temari opened the door a crack and peered inside. Then she stepped into the room and closed the door behind her, looking uncharacteristically uncertain. She bit her lower lip. Then she blurted out, "Are you sleeping with someone else?"

He blinked. That was the last question he'd expected. "What makes you ask that?"

"Just answer, please. Are you?"

"No."

"Then why? Why are we suddenly not looking at each other or talking to each other? Are you still angry at me about what happened?"

He paused, then sighed. "No. Not really. I just…I don't know. I've been thinking a lot lately. About things. And us."

Her hands curled into fists, and she stared at the floor. "I'm sorry for what I made you do. But I wasn't trying to hurt you or Gaara. Please believe me."

"This isn't about that."

"What, then?"

He stared at the wall, weighing his words carefully, wondering how much of the truth to tell her. "I have feelings for someone else. I can't tell you who it is. I'm sorry. I doubt anything will ever come of it anyway, but I need time to get my head sorted out."

"I see." Another long, awkward silence. Her mouth trembled, and she pressed her lips together.

"It isn't you, Temari. You're a wonderful woman. You're beautiful and strong and smart and…"

"Don't," she whispered. She turned and retreated down the hall, to her room. He heard the door close.

A part of him wanted to go to her, to comfort her, but he knew anything he said or did right now would just make it worse. He pulled a lighter out of his pocket and flicked it on. For a moment, he just watched the flame dance—watched it until it blurred and doubled in his vision. Then he got up and walked down the hall, toward the aviary. Maybe he'd check and see if any new messages had arrived. It was something to do.

The musky bird smell of the aviary enveloped him as he stepped into the huge room. Trained hawks sat on perches or in large cages. He noticed one with a small tube attached to its foot. An unread letter. He detached the rolled-up message and studied it. It wasn't marked confidential, so he unrolled it and read the message there. His heartbeat quickened.

_Hi Gaara, it's Naruto! I got your letters. Sorry it took me so long to answer, but I've been away. Anyway, I'm back now, and I can come visit you. Be there in a couple of days! Actually, by the time you get this I'll probably be almost there. So maybe I'll see you today!  
_

Shikamaru took a deep breath. He needed to make sure he got to Naruto before Gaara did. He had a lot to explain.

This would be beyond troublesome.

-To be continued


	6. Chapter 6

Shikamaru wrote a brief message to Temari telling her where he was and what he was doing. He slid the letter under her door. He didn't know if she was in her room or not. After their last conversation, he didn't have the courage to knock. He felt like a coward, but he was afraid if she answered the door she might be crying—crying because of him—and he couldn't face that.

He grabbed some food pills and water and left Suna, heading toward Konoha. Hopefully he could meet Naruto halfway.

After a few hours of walking blind, he sensed Naruto's chakra and adjusted his course. Around mid-afternoon, he glimpsed a distant flash of orange against the pale dunes. He waved, and Naruto waved back.

The orange-clad ninja sprinted up to him, beaming. "Hey, Shikamaru! What are you doing out here?"

"I came to talk to you."

The smile fell away from his face when he saw Shikamaru's expression. "What is it? Something wrong?"

"The situation in Suna is kind of troublesome right now. I'll explain while we walk."

So he explained—how Gaara had been wasting away and kept asking for Naruto, how Temari had cajoled Shikamaru into impersonating him, how Gaara had confessed his love. Throughout the explanation, Naruto's eyes grew wider and wider until it seemed they would tumble out of their sockets.

"So that's pretty much the situation," Shikamaru said.

"Wow." Naruto walked in silence for a minute or two, staring into space. "That's just…wow. I can't believe you did that."

"I know. Believe me, I'm still kicking myself over it. If I'd had any idea how Gaara felt, I wouldn't have agreed to it."

"He said he was in love with me?" Naruto sounded profoundly uneasy.

"Yeah."

"It's just so weird to think about. Gaara doesn't seem like the type to fall in love." Naruto scratched the back of his neck. "I had no idea he even liked guys that way. Though I guess it's no weirder than the idea of him being with a woman. I just have trouble seeing him with _anyone, _I guess." A long pause. "What did you say when he told you?"

"I told him that I couldn't return his feelings. That I wasn't attracted to guys at all, generally speaking. I figured that's what you would say. Was I wrong?"

The tension eased out of Naruto's shoulders. "No, you were right." He looked at Shikamaru from the corner of his eye. "How did he take it?"

"He seemed okay, all things considered. He was worried about how it would affect your friendship with him, but I told him that nothing had to change."

"Whew." Naruto wiped one sleeve across his brow. "Well, problem solved then, right? I mean, it'll be a little awkward seeing him, knowing how he feels, but otherwise things can just go on like normal."

Shikamaru bit his lower lip. "It's…not quite that simple." He'd hoped to avoid telling Naruto about this part, but it was too big a deal to not mention. If Gaara said anything about it, Naruto would be completely confused. "Something else happened between Gaara and I. While I was you, I mean."

"What is it?"

"Well, I stayed in your form for a little while longer and hung out with him, and we both got a little drunk…"

"Gaara, drunk?" He chuckled. "I'd like to see that."

"Yeah. Well. We went back to his room and ended up in this weird conversation about masturbation. I don't know if it had something to do with Shukaku being extracted or if he's just a late bloomer or what, but I guess he didn't start having sexual feelings until recently, and he said he didn't know how to masturbate. He wanted me to show him. So I sort of…gave him a hand-job."

Naruto stared at him, his face still frozen in an uncertain half-smile, as if he thought it was a joke. "Eh?"

Shikamaru's cheeks burned. "I jerked him off. While I was disguised as you."

The smile faded. "You…really?" His voice emerged as a squeak.

"Yeah." He cleared his throat. He couldn't bring himself to meet Naruto's gaze. "Like I said, we were drunk." A voice in his mind protested that he hadn't been _that _drunk, but that was his excuse and he was sticking to it. "I'm really sorry about this. I just thought you should know. I mean, in case he says something about it."

Silence. Then, "This is weird."

"I know."

"Shit. What do I do? How do I act around him?"

"Just act normal. Be yourself. I know that's not easy, but I think it's best if you guys just continue your friendship as if this didn't happen."

"I'll try." Naruto sounded uncharacteristically pessimistic. They walked without speaking for a few minutes. Then he broke the silence: "I guess it's just as well that it _wasn't _me. I mean, if it had been me in your shoes when he said he was in love with me, I'm not sure how I would have reacted. I might have said something stupid and hurt his feelings."

"That doesn't sound like you."

"I don't know. I've never been in a situation like that. To tell you the truth, Gaara's always made me a little uncomfortable. If he'd sprung something like that on me I might have freaked out."

"But he's your friend. Isn't he?"

"Well, yeah. But it's complicated. He's the only other Jinchuuriki I know, and I can understand the pain he went through as a kid, so there's that bond between us. But he's not the kind of person I can see myself hanging out with on a regular basis. We both have Bijuu—or _had_, in his case—but aside from that, we really don't have much in common. And most of my memories of Gaara involve him killing people and threatening my friends. If he'd only hurt me, that might be different. But he tried to kill Sasuke, and he almost crushed Sakura-chan. He came within an inch of destroying my two most important people. Even if I understand _why_ he was so messed up, it's hard to just forget about something like that, y'know? Those memories still replay in my head whenever I see him, and I don't know how to stop it."

"He's not like that anymore. Believe it or not, he's a really nice guy once you get to know him. He's been working his ass off as Kazekage, trying to atone for his past sins. And you're special to him. You're the first real friend he's ever had."

"I know. That's what makes this all so hard to deal with. I feel bad for him—I mean, we went through the same shit as kids, but here I am now with all these friends and people who care about me, and he's still alone except for his brother and sister. I want him to have friends. But the last time I hung out with him, he was really clingy with me and I didn't know how to handle it."

"Clingy? Gaara?"

"Yeah, I know, you wouldn't think…I mean, he wasn't clingy the way Sakura always was with Sasuke, nothing that obvious, but he kept asking me if I was his friend and if I ever thought about him and stuff like that, and at one point he reached over and sort of stroked the scars on my cheek—" Naruto pointed to the whisker-like marks. "—and said, 'You're the only person who understands me.' I thought it was just because he was so starved for human contact, but now that I know _why _he was doing that stuff it's even weirder." He ran his hands through his hair and sighed. "I guess it's too late to back out now, huh? I mean, I told him I'd be in Suna within a couple days." He looked at Shikamaru and gave him a broad, forced smile. "Might as well just try to make the best of it, right?"

"Yeah." A bitter taste filled his mouth.

Once they got back to Suna, he and Naruto parted ways. Shikamaru stopped at a bar and had a drink. Then he went back to the Kazekage mansion and retreated to his room, where he lay in bed, smoked and stared at the ceiling.

* * *

Naruto stood before the door to Gaara's study. He took a deep breath and knocked. "Come in," Gaara's voice called.

Naruto braced himself, plastered a smile on his face and opened the door. "Hi, Gaara!"

"Naruto." Gaara stood and stared at him for a moment, his face as unreadable as ever, though his eyes were slightly wider than normal. Then he approached him. "I missed you…" Gaara's arms slipped around Naruto's waist.

Naruto tensed. He couldn't help it. He stood, rigid, as Gaara hugged him…then awkwardly patted him on the back and said, "I missed you too."

Gaara withdrew and looked at him, his brow furrowed. "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah! Everything's fine. So, um, you wanna go get some ramen?"

Gaara nodded, his expression puzzled and uneasy.

* * *

Later, Gaara sat across from Naruto in a booth, picking at his ramen as Naruto chattered about everything that was happening in Konoha. Naruto hadn't stopped talking once since they sat down. Of course, he was always talkative, but now his chatter had a frantic quality—high-pitched and breathless, as if he were afraid of what might happen when he paused to take a breath. And the way he'd stiffened when Gaara tried to hug him…

_He regrets what happened._ Gaara's chest tightened. He stared at Naruto, his limbs heavy and numb. His vision blurred. _He regrets it._ A pressure built in Gaara's chest. The chopsticks slipped from nerveless fingers.

"…so I had dinner with Sakura, and she said it wasn't a _date-_date, but she let me pay for everything. Well, actually, she _made_ me pay for it and said it was repayment for saving my ass earlier. But maybe that was just her way of saying, 'it's a date.' I ordered—let's see, what did I order? I think it was pork ramen with eggs…eh? Gaara? You all right?" He asked as if he were afraid of the answer.

Gaara stared into space. An odd ringing sound filled his ears, and it was hard to draw a full breath. It was as if someone had bound his chest with tight straps. "I'm fine."

* * *

The next morning, after breakfast, Shikamaru spotted Gaara walking down the hall. "Hey," he said.

Gaara walked past him without looking at him. There was an odd, detached look in his eyes.

"Hey, Gaara." Shikamaru lay a hand on his shoulder, catching him before he could turn the corner.

Gaara froze and turned his head. He blinked as his eyes slowly focused on Shikamaru's face. "Shikamaru, I…" He took a deep breath. "Forgive me, I'm a little preoccupied."

Shikamaru studied his face. "Are you okay?"

"Fine." He looked away.

"Is Naruto still here? He arrived yesterday, didn't he?"

"He just left."

Shikamaru knew he should probably just let it go. Gaara didn't seem to want to talk. But he couldn't shake off his concern. "Did anything happen? I know it's not really my business, but you seem a little…I dunno."

Gaara paused. "I think Naruto is angry at me."

"Huh? Why would he be angry?"

"The last time he came to visit Suna, I asked him to do something that he didn't really want to do. And yesterday, when he returned…" Gaara's lips trembled slightly. "He tried to hide it behind a smile, but I don't think he's comfortable with me anymore. I could see in his face that he didn't really want to be here. When I tried to hug him, he tensed up the way Yashamaru always used to tense when I touched him. I've alienated my only friend."

Shikamaru winced. "It might not be what you think. I mean, maybe something else is bothering him."

"I spent my childhood having people look at me like I was something unnatural. Like I didn't belong. I know that look. I just never expected to receive it from him. I thought he was different. I…I'm sorry. I shouldn't be talking about this." He quickened his pace. "I have work I need to do."

"Gaara, wait."

He retreated into his study and shut the door.

* * *

"I'm sorry to dump all this on you. I just had to tell someone." Temari sat at the edge of the bed, hands on her knees, her gaze downcast.

Kankuro sat next to her. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Wow."

"Yeah. Yesterday, Gaara saw the actual Naruto, and I don't think it went well. He's holed up in his study now and he won't open the door. I'm afraid he's going to figure it out. And if he does, what then?"

Silence. Then, "There's only one thing to do."

"What?"

"You have to tell him the truth."

She tensed. "Have you lost your mind?"

"Coming clean is always better. I mean, if it was you—if someone else had deceived you like this, and it resulted in some sort of situation that confused the hell out of you—wouldn't you want that person to just tell you what was going on? Even if the truth hurt, even if it made you angry, you'd still want to _know, _right?"

"Yes, but…" She bit her lower lip. "It's _not _me we're talking about. It's Gaara. There's no telling how he might react."

"Give him some credit. He _is _the Kazekage, after all. He clawed his way up out of Hell to get to where he is. If he can't deal with something like this, how can he deal with the other challenges he's going to face?"

Temari rubbed the bridge of her nose. "This might be worse than anything he's faced so far."

"Do you really think so?"

She looked him in the eye. "Yashamaru lied to Gaara and it shattered him. What do you think it's going to do to him when he realizes…"

"This isn't like what Yashamaru did. And the truth's going to come out sooner or later. Truth usually does. If he has to hear it, isn't it better for him to hear it from your mouth? Hell, I can tell him myself if you like." He stood.

Temari caught his wrist. "Don't. I'm the one who needs to do it."

"At least let me go with you. Just in case."

"Okay." Temari gave him a faint smile. "I could use some backup." She hesitated, aware that her heart was pounding, that her mouth had gone as dry as the desert sand. She dried her sweat-damp palms on her yukata. "I guess there's no reason to delay, is there?"

He lay a hand on her shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Ready?"

She nodded. "Let's go."

-To be continued


	7. Chapter 7

AN: Sorry for the long delay. My life's been kind of crazy lately, so I haven't had much time to write...but things have settled down now, so here's the last chapter, finally. On an unrelated note, I've started experimenting with making AMVs. So if you want to check them out, there's a link in my profile.

* * *

"Gaara…"

Gaara looked up from the stack of paperwork on his desk. Temari stood in the doorway, Kankuro close behind her, one hand on her shoulder. "Yes?"

Temari took a deep breath. "There's…something I need to tell you."

Kankuro squeezed her shoulder and murmured something into her ear. There was a look of concern, almost fear, on his face.

Gaara set down his pen. His midsection felt suddenly, strangely hollow, as if the organs inside had vanished. "What is it?"

She bit her lower lip. "A week ago, when Naruto came to visit you…that wasn't Naruto."

The void in his middle grew, swallowing his heart. "What are you talking about?"

She approached Gaara's desk, Kankuro close behind her. He kept a protective hand on her shoulder, watching Gaara carefully. They way they stood close together, the fear in their eyes when they looked at him, reminded him of the way things used to be—his two siblings united against him, united in their terror of him. "Before I tell you, I want you to know…what I did was wrong, but I did it with your best interests in mind. I did it because I was worried about you. I know that's not an excuse. I just want you to know."

Gaara looked at Kankuro. "Do you know what she's talking about?"

"Yeah. She explained everything to me."

Gaara stood and planted his hands on the desk. "Tell me what's going on."

Temari visibly steeled herself, squaring her shoulders and straightening her back. "I couldn't get in contact with Naruto, but you just kept asking for him. You wouldn't talk to anyone else. So I made Shikamaru transform himself to look like Naruto, and…it was him, Gaara. The person you spoke to was Shikamaru. I'm sorry. I just couldn't keep this from you any longer."

At first, Gaara felt nothing. He stared at Temari, his insides empty. He remembered confessing his feelings to Naruto—no. To the person he'd thought was Naruto—remembered his relief when he felt those warm arms around him, the sense of acceptance, knowing Naruto still wanted to be with him. Except it hadn't been real. Gaara's breathing quickened, and he began to tremble. The first rush of pain hit him like an iron-fisted punch; it slammed into his chest and radiated outward, filling his body.

"Gaara?"

"Get out," he whispered.

"Gaara, please…"

He stared at the desk, unable to look at her, at either one of them, as he struggled to control his breathing. A chorus of screams swelled in his brain as a red haze crept across his vision. "Get out. Or I'll hurt you."

They left quickly.

Gaara bowed his head and buried his fingers in his hair, shaking. His heart writhed and twisted inside him, a raw, burning mass of pain, like a body with its skin stripped away.

He stormed out of his study and down the hall, clutching at his chest and gasping against the suffocating ache inside. He hadn't felt pain like this since Yashamaru's betrayal. He was splintering, cracking into fragments. His breath came in short, sharp gasps. He leaned against the wall, dizzy.

No wonder the real Naruto had seemed uncomfortable with him. That beautiful night, the joy of finally being touched by another person—it had all been a lie.

He had to get out of here, or he was going to kill someone.

* * *

"Kazekage-sama…" The barkeep stared at the four empty glasses on the table. "Pardon me, I know it's none of my business, but…are you sure you want another?"

"Yes," Gaara replied.

The barkeep retreated behind the counter. A minute later, he set another Strawberry Whirlwind in front of Gaara. Gaara picked up the glass in both hands and drained it.

Perhaps if he'd discovered alcohol at a younger age, he thought, he might not have killed so many people. This stuff had a wonderful numbing effect—like a layer of cotton around his brain, insulating him, clouding every sensation. Even the hot, throbbing ache in his heart.

He felt heavy and light at the same time. His vision kept sliding out of focus. He threw some money on the table and stumbled out of the bar.

It was dark. There was no one around; the streets were silent, empty. Then he turned a corner and almost ran into someone.

"Kazekage-sama!" squeaked a young female voice.

He blinked, trying to focus his vision. It was Sari…no, Matsuri. Her brown eyes stared at him in bewilderment and concern, but there was a trace of fear in them as well. He supposed he looked awful. "Kazekage-sama…a-are you all right?"

He stared fixedly into her eyes. A flush rose into her cheeks.

Gaara seized the girl's arms, and she stiffened in shock. "Do you like me?" he slurred.

"Wh-what?"

"Do. You. Like. Me?"

Her head jerked; a tiny nod.

"Then hold me."

"K-Kazekage-sama…this is so sudden." She squirmed as his hands tightened on her arms. "You're hurting me. P-please let go."

"Don't pull away from me. Please, Sar…Matsur…which one are you?"

Her eyes widened, and her mouth twisted in shocked disgust. "You're drunk." She tried to pull away. "Let go!"

"I don't want to be alone." Breathing hard, he seized her and dragged her body to his, clutching her as he'd once clutched his teddy bear for comfort.

Her elbow connected with his ribs. It hurt only a little—if she'd done it any harder, the sand might have stopped it—but the pain was enough to jerk him out of his daze. He loosened his grip, and she wrenched herself from his arms.

She turned and ran down the street. Gaara's chest tightened as he watched her go. "Wait…don't run!" Sand stretched out toward her, seized her leg and dragged her back. She thrashed, screaming.

"No! Let me go, don't hurt me!" She sobbed, and the sound raked icy claws over his heart. He released her, and she scrambled to her feet, ran, and vanished around a corner.

Gaara buried his fingers in his hair and sank to his knees. A wave of dizziness washed over him, and black spots danced in front of his eyes. He vomited a pink puddle onto the street, rose and staggered forward, then sank to his knees again and passed out.

* * *

Temari came to Shikamaru's room that night, her face chalk-white. "I can't find him anywhere," she said.

He looked at her raw, pain-filled eyes and said, "You told him, didn't you?"

She hung her head.

"Damn it." Shikamaru grabbed his jacket. "Let's go look for him. You search the north end of the city. I'll search the south."

They left the mansion. It was night. After a half-hour of searching, Shikamaru found Gaara unconscious in the street a few blocks from the bar. He looked small and helpless, curled up on the street and shivering. Shikamaru scooped him up, carried him to his bedroom, lay him down and pulled the sheets up to his chest.

Gaara moaned, his eyes rolling beneath the lids. Sweat glistened on his brow. "Shh. It's okay." Shikamaru smoothed his hair. "I think you had a little too much to drink."

Half-conscious, Gaara clutched his hand, and Shikamaru squeezed it. For awhile, Gaara lay silent, breathing shallowly. His grip on Shikamaru's hand relaxed, tightened, then relaxed again.

At last, cloudy blue-green eyes opened a crack. Gaara blinked a few times, then his gaze focused on Shikamaru's face, and his eyes widened. "You," he whispered. His breathing quickened.

Shikamaru tensed. It seemed Gaara wasn't going to take this well. "Gaara, listen to me…"

A huge sand-arm seized Shikamaru and slammed him against the wall. He gasped for breath, his arms and legs pinned, his chest all but crushed by the sand.

Gaara stalked toward him, his eyes wild. "You don't know how much tenderness hurts," he said through gritted teeth, "once you discover it's false. Every touch, every look, every kind word in your memory burns you." The sand pressed harder against Shikamaru, and he cried out. "You made me believe that you cared about me. That you were my friend."

He struggled to breathe against the crushing pressure on his chest. "I _do _care about you, Gaara." The words emerged strained and breathless, forced out through flattened lungs.

"No. No. No, no…" Gaara buried his fingers in his hair, panting. His head whipped to one side, then the other, his eyes wide and wild as he glared at the walls, as if suspecting that even they might turn against him. His hands tightened into fists, twisting his hair. He screamed and banged his head against the wall. His knees crumpled, and he fell, wailing, to the floor. He tried to claw his own face, but the sand leaped up to stop him. More sand constricted around Shikamaru until his vision grayed out, and he thought, _This is it. I'm going to die here._ It wasn't the way he'd expected to go, but maybe it was fitting.

Then all at once, the pressure was gone. He collapsed to the floor in a panting, trembling heap. Gaara huddled against the wall, hugging his knees, rocking back and forth. Shikamaru crawled toward him. He wondered if he was doing something suicidally stupid—wondered if he should flee while he had the chance—but he couldn't just leave Gaara like this.

His eyes flicked to Gaara's shadow on the floor. Then his hands moved through the familiar signs of his family's jutsu, and Shikamaru's shadow melded with Gaara's. Gaara gasped and went rigid. His body trembled as it contorted itself, involuntarily, into the same crouch as Shikamaru's. Gaara raised his eyes, and they burned bright with pain and rage.

"I'm sorry," Shikamaru said, "but I need you to listen to me." He rose. So did Gaara. Shikamaru dragged a chair up and maneuvered it so that when he sat in the chair, Gaara sat on the edge of the bed. "I know I've hurt you, and nothing I say will make it better. But I just…need to explain. Okay?"

The rage died from Gaara's eyes. They went cold and dead as a mask slid over his face. "I'm not interested in anything you have to say. I don't want anymore lies."

"No more lies. I promise."

"I don't believe you."

Shikamaru stared hard into his eyes. "I can't blame you for not trusting me. But I want you to know—everything I said to you when you thought I was Naruto…I meant it all. What happened between us was real. I was just wearing a different face."

Gaara's jaw tightened. His body quivered, straining against the jutsu. "Stop it. I don't even want to look at you."

"If, after tonight, you still feel that way, then I'll leave. I'll go back to Konoha and you'll never have to see my face or hear my voice ever again. Just hear me out."

"I don't have much choice, do I?"

Shikamaru winced. The coldness in Gaara's tone stung him. "I shouldn't have agreed to impersonate Naruto. I know that. But you can understand why Temari asked me to do it, can't you? She was trying to help. But if I'd had any idea how you felt about Naruto, I wouldn't have agreed. Things just spiraled out of control."

"Did you tell Naruto? About what happened?"

Shikamaru nodded. "If I hadn't told him, it would have just created more confusion."

"So instead of coming to me and telling me the truth, you involved him in this conspiracy."

"It wasn't like that." He held Gaara's gaze. "We weren't conspiring against you. By that point, Temari and I knew we'd made a mistake, and we were trying to fix it. I wanted to find some way to resolve this without hurting you."

"And because you were afraid of what I'd do if I found out. Isn't that right?"

"That's not—"

"Don't you dare lie to me _now_," Gaara said, his voice thick with bitterness. "You were afraid. I'm dangerous, after all. I'm unstable. You lied to protect yourselves."

"We lied because we knew this would break your heart if you found out, and we didn't want that—because we care about you."

"If you cared about me, you wouldn't have deceived me in the first place!"

"People make mistakes," Shikamaru said quietly.

"That's all you have to say for yourself?"

Pain ripped at his chest. "I know I'm not the person you want. I know you probably hate me now. But I…"

"You what?" snapped Gaara.

"Before I came to you as Naruto, I'd never really talked to you. I never really _knew _you. Now that I do…" Oh, hell. There was really no way to say this, except to just say it. "I've fallen in love with you, Gaara."

Gaara's breath hitched in his throat. Judging from the look in his eyes, Shikamaru might have just shoved a kunai into his heart. "No," he whispered hoarsely. "That isn't true."

"It's true. After what we did together, I couldn't stop thinking about you. Hell, I broke up with Temari because I couldn't sort my feelings out. I never knew I could feel this way about another man, but...I do. I love you."

Gaara's mouth trembled as he panted for breath. His wide eyes twitched back and forth, as if looking for an escape route. Dark eyelids slammed shut in one last, desperate attempt to hide.

"Look at me," Shikamaru whispered, "please?"

Slowly, Gaara opened his eyes. His gaze met Shikamaru's, and Shikamaru saw the raw, aching need in those eyes, the longing to believe, mingled with the fear of being hurt. Gaara's jaw clenched, and his mask slid into place once again, his eyes going icy and blank. "Words don't mean anything," he said. "Yashamaru always said he cared about me. That I was important to him. Then he forged my trust into a weapon and turned it against me. You're the same as he is. You're only saying these things now so I won't kill you."

Tears stung the corners of Shikamaru's eyes. After all Gaara had been through, he really couldn't blame him for thinking that. "I'm going to free you now," Shikamaru said. "If you really want to kill me...if that will make you feel better, even a little…then kill me. Just promise me that you won't hurt anyone else. Not Temari. Not Naruto. Will you promise?"

Gaara's head jerked in a nod.

Shikamaru released him. Gaara lunged. His hands wrapped around Shikamaru's throat and squeezed. Sand encircled his middle, pinning his arms to his sides. Shikamaru didn't resist; he looked into those blazing blue-green eyes as Gaara stood over him, thumbs digging into his trachea. A wheezing gasp burst from his throat as he struggled to breathe. His lungs ached. A gray haze washed over his vision. Seconds later, he blacked out.

When he came to, he was lying in Gaara's arms, and Gaara was kneeling on the floor, his face pressed against Shikamaru's neck. "Don't die, Shikamaru," he whispered. "Don't die. Please don't die."

Shikamaru coughed. His eyes watered, and it hurt to breathe, but he was alive, and that was something. "I'm not going to die." His voice emerged raw, hoarse and cracked. He wasn't sure what had caused Gaara's change of heart, but he didn't want to push his luck by asking. He just lay in Gaara's arms, limp, and reveled in the simple pleasure of breathing—a pleasure which, he vowed, he would never take for granted again.

Gaara looked at him, tears shining on his pale cheeks. "You didn't even try to stop me."

"I was prepared to die, if that's what it took to convince you I was telling the truth." He smiled weakly. "Have to admit, though, I'm glad you didn't kill me."

Gaara averted his gaze. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I can't blame you." He rubbed his throat. "If I were in your shoes, I'd probably want to kill me too."

"I don't want to kill anyone. I promised myself I'd never do it again."

"And you didn't. You stopped. So it's okay." He started to reach out, hesitated, then lay a hand on Gaara's head and gently rubbed his scalp. "I'm sorry too, Gaara."

Gaara met his gaze, his eyes wet and gleaming. "Do you really love me?" he whispered.

"Yes," Shikamaru whispered back. His throat burned. He'd probably have bruises. But he ignored his pain, sat up and wrapped his arms around Gaara. "I love you."

Gaara pressed his face against Shikamaru's chest, breathing hard. He trembled, his heart beating hard and fast.

"Shh." Shikamaru stroked his hair. "It's okay. It's okay, Gaara."

"No." He twisted away. "I can't trust anyone. I…I…I…" The word hitched over and over in his throat, like a record skipping. Then he buried his face in his hands.

"Gaara, please…" Shikamaru pulled him closer. "Please let me make it up to you. Let me try, at least."

Gaara panted, almost hyperventilating. "I'm afraid."

"I know. But it'll be okay." Shikamaru held him, and after a moment, Gaara relaxed into his arms. He held him for a long time, rocking him, smoothing his hair, murmuring gentle nonsense into his ear, until the frantic staccato beat of Gaara's heart slowed. Then he stood, lifting Gaara into his arms, and laid him gently on the bed. He sat on the bed's edge and gazed down into those half-lidded green eyes.

"Why?" Gaara whispered.

"Hm?"

"You said you love me. Why? What is there about me to love?"

Shikamaru studied Gaara's face. He could say that it was difficult to put into words, which was true, but it would also be a cowardly response. Gaara needed words right now. He needed something to believe in. "Even from the beginning—when I first came here as an ambassador, I mean—I thought you were beautiful. Maybe I couldn't admit it back then, even to myself. But there was something about you…" Such trite, inadequate words. He groped for better ones, wishing his intellect was good for something outside of battle plans and shogi, wishing he could apply it to the task of making Gaara understand why he was special. "I remember when Temari told me about what had happened to you when you were a child. That thing with Yashamaru, I mean. And about everything else…everything you endured back then, when you were so small and vulnerable and unable to put any of it into context or understand why it was happening to you, only you, and…I tried to imagine what it had been like for you. I was amazed that you'd overcome all that on your own. I guess I was captivated with you, even back then. Just watching you at council meetings, you seemed so remote. So sealed off within yourself. I knew that the rage and bloodlust you felt before was probably still there, beneath that calm shell. But beneath that there was another layer, something deeper, something you hadn't let anyone else touch for a long, long time. I was…curious."

Gaara lay on the bed, looking up at Shikamaru. A tiny furrow appeared in his brow, as if he were struggling to understand.

Shikamaru--still sitting on the bed's edge--reached for Gaara's hand and touched it lightly. "At the time, I don't think I ever dwelt much on those feelings…maybe just because it seemed like strange thoughts to be having about another guy. But sometimes I found my mind wandering at night. I found myself thinking about what it would be like to see you shed all those layers of armor." He paused. "I don't know if any of this is making sense. I wish I was a poet so I could find some way to describe it to you—how you make me feel. Every day I see you trying so hard to connect to the people around you, to form bonds, and I can see what a struggle it is for you, but you just keep trying. You turned your own fate around. You went from being a feared weapon to being a respected Kazekage. You overcame your own darkness. You're so strong. Stronger than I could ever be, probably." Shikamaru's throat tightened. "I wish I could be the person you really want."

Gaara averted his gaze and stared at the wall. "I'm not sure that person even exists."

"What do you mean?"

"I built Naruto up in my mind to be something more than what he is. He was the first person to show me kindness, so I heaped all my dreams and expectations on him. I made him out to be some kind of angel. Then when I saw him yesterday--the real him, I mean--he was so different than I remembered. It left me scared and confused, especially after..." He trailed off. "It's so strange to think that it was _you _that night. That you were the one who held me, the one who was so patient and gentle and understanding with me. I was always obsessed with Naruto, but that night...that was when I truly fell in love with him. Except it _wasn't _him. It was you I fell in love with. I just didn't know it."

Shikamaru's breath caught in his throat, and his heartbeat quickened.

"I want to believe you're telling me the truth," Gaara said. "That this is real. But it's so hard to believe that anyone could really..." He bit his lower lip.

"Will you give me a chance, at least? Let me prove to you that I'm serious about this. Let me court you."

Gaara frowned. "Court me?"

Heat crept into Shikamaru's cheeks. "I mean…do the sort of things that people do when they're going out. You know. Take you out for dinner. Buy you drinks. Stuff like that." It sounded ridiculous when he said it out loud. He'd done those things with Temari when he was still getting to know her, but Gaara was, well, different. "I mean, we can do other stuff if you like. Anything you want. I just want to be with you. I'm crazy about you, Gaara. I want a chance to get to know you better…as me, not as Naruto."

"What about Temari?"

"Like I said, we broke up."

"Because of me?"

"It's…not like that. I mean, yeah, realizing that I was attracted to you was sort of the tipping point. And I could have handled it better." He lowered his gaze. "I hurt her too. I know that. But even if things had gone differently, we would have broken up at some point anyway."

"Why?"

Shikamaru hesitated. "In some ways, she reminds me a lot of my mom. And the more I hang around with her, the more I find myself acting like my father does with my mother. Don't get me wrong, I love my folks, but I don't want their life. I want my own. What I feel for you…it's different. It's not like anything I've ever experienced. It's fucking with my head and blowing apart my preconceptions about how the world works and what sort of person I am, and it's making me rethink what I want out of life. But I think that's what I need. Everything about you is just…" He trailed off, unable to find words. "I want to stay with you," he said at last.

A long pause. Then Gaara said quietly, "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay. If you want to stay with me, then stay." His voice had changed. It was soft and raw and vulnerable. He looked up at Shikamaru, his eyes hungry, and Shikamaru's stomach fluttered.

Slowly, he enfolded Gaara in his arms and pulled him close. Gaara rested his head against Shikamaru's chest as they sat together on the bed, Gaara practically curled up on Shikamaru's lap. "You smell like smoke," he muttered.

"Sorry."

"I don't mind." His eyes closed. "Can we…stay like this? For a little while?"

"As long as you like." He cradled Gaara against him. His fingers crept into Gaara's soft, red hair and combed through it.

They held each other for a long time. Shikamaru's legs fell asleep under Gaara's weight, but he didn't move. He never wanted to move. At last, he drifted into a light doze, his chin pillowed on Gaara's hair.

"Shikamaru," Gaara murmured, stirring him from his dreams.

"Yeah?"

Gaara raised his eyes, then leaned forward and pressed his lips to Shikamaru's in a soft kiss. Shikamaru's lips tingled at the warm pressure of Gaara's mouth, and his head spun. When Gaara finally pulled away, he was dizzy. "I forgive you," Gaara whispered. "Will you forgive me?"

Shikamaru stared, dazed, into those gorgeous green eyes. "For what?"

"For nearly killing you."

"Of course I forgive you. That was kind of my fault anyway."

"And for everything else. Everything before." Gaara's fingers tightened on his arm. "I hurt so many people."

"That's all over now. You're a different person." He touched Gaara's cheek lightly. "A person that I love."

Gaara shivered at his touch—or maybe it was the sound of that word. "Just say you forgive me," he whispered. "Please."

"I forgive you."

Gaara buried his face against Shikamaru's chest and clung to him as if he were the last solid thing in the world. He breathed in Gaara's sweet, dark, haunting scent and held him tighter.

* * *

It was late. Moonlight filtered in through the windows as Temari crept down the hall toward her brother's room, her stomach a tight knot. Earlier that night, she'd received a brief note from Shikamaru stating that he'd found Gaara and that the Kazekage was safe in his room now...but what sort of mental state was he in? She knew she should probably stay away, for her own safety--Gaara was probably still angry at her--but she had to check. Had to be sure he was all right.

Holding her breath, she pressed an ear to his door. When she heard nothing but soft breathing inside, she eased the door open a crack and peered in.

Gaara lay in bed, curled against Shikamaru's side, his fingers tangled in Shikamaru's dark unbound hair, face hidden against his chest. Shikamaru's hand rested protectively on Gaara's back, and his eyes were closed in sleep. Their gentle, mingled breathing echoed through the room.

She watched them sleep—her little brother and her former lover, holding each other. She waited for the sting of jealousy, but it didn't come. Somehow it seemed so natural, seeing them together like this. So right. Everything made sense now; why Shikamaru had broken up with her and what had happened between him and Gaara. Tears of relief filled her eyes. Because this, she knew, was something Gaara desperately needed…and maybe it was something Shikamaru needed, too.

She eased the door shut and walked down the hall, smiling.

Everything was going to be okay, after all.

-The End


End file.
